Playing It Straight
by MissWinkles
Summary: Sometimes love is all about telling the truth. AH, OOC and very, very fluffy. Written for the Twilight Twenty-Five Round Six.
1. Chapter 1

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 5 - Cafe**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"…_twenty-six-year-old organic vegan chef seeks female roommate. Would prefer a non-meat eater, but not essential. Applicants must be tidy, employed and quiet. No smokers. No pets. No parties…"_

"No way."

"…_twenty-eight-year-old SWM seeks female roommate. Must be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, slim, pretty, with ample-sized breasts…"_

"What the fuck?"

Rose grabs the paper from my hands. "It does not say that. Where does it say that?"

I point to the ad in the bottom corner and her mouth drops open. "What the actual fuck?"

Trawling the wanted ads was not the way I envisioned spending my last morning with my best friend, but nevertheless, there I was. Rosalie had moved her things into Emmett's house the week before, leaving me with just the basics – a bed, a TV and a fridge. As of today, I was officially down a roommate.

"Which suburbs are you looking at?" Rose asks around a mouthful of breakfast.

I shrug, trying not to wallow in self pity as it dawns on me that this is probably the last time Rose and I will have breakfast together as roommates. "Greyhill, Blairmont, Newhaven…maybe Eastbrooke, as long as it's not too pricey."

"Oh my God, some guy's renting out a tree house."

I groan, letting my head slam against the tabletop. "See? See what I have to deal with, Rose? Why do you have to move in with Emmett?"

Stupid Emmett with his stupid house in stupid Westport.

I'd been living with Rosalie for almost three years when she decided to move in with her boyfriend. It's not that I don't like Emmett, I do. I just don't like the fact that he's taking away my best friend and hiding her away in upper-middle class suburbia. She keeps reminding me that Westport is only forty minutes away, but fuck, forty minutes when you don't have a car is three trains and a bus. It might as well be An-fucking-tarctica.

Of course, when Rose moved out it meant I'd either find another roommate, or find somewhere else to live. And because I'm a procrastinating idiot, it's now the eleventh hour, and I've done neither.

Keeping her eyes on the wanted section, Rose rubs my back. "I love living with you, and you're my brother from another mother, Bella. But Emmett and I need our own space…"

"There's heaps of space in our apartment!"

"Bullshit! That place was barely big enough for the two of us. Anyway," she waggles her eyebrows, "I can't wait to have my own place so Emmett and I can get freaky whenever we like, wherever we like."

I groan. "Ugh. Gross."

"Hey! Don't think we have it easy. Emmett couldn't look at you for a week after that guy stayed over."

Lifting my head, I peel a napkin from my cheek. "Which guy?"

"The one with the shaved head, Taylor or…"

I smile lazily, nodding as his pretty face pops into my head. "Tyler."

Rose makes a face of disgust. "Whatever. I need some space, and you need somewhere closer to work."

"Somewhere affordable."

"Define affordable."

I sigh, sloshing the cold tea around in the bottom of my cup. "Under a thousand a month?"

"That could be tough."

She's right. Newhaven, Retrouver Hill, Blairmont, they're all beach front suburbs on the fancy side of the city. But that's where the new store is, so it's either live in the cheaper suburbs and commute every day, or live in an expensive apartment close to work. So far my search has turned up absolutely nothing; unless I'm prepared to be a live-in maid for seven hundred a month.

Rose nods, slapping away my hand as I reach for a strawberry off her plate. "Okay. So somewhere within walking distance if possible, and somewhere that's not a tree house or…oh my God, who are these people?"

"…_two bedroom, one bathroom, rent negotiable. Applicants must enjoy heavy metal and/or death metal. Cleaning is not a priority, but is always welcome. Must love cats as I have twelve…"_

Rose laughs so hard she snorts, earning looks from people around us.

I'm going to miss this bitch so freaking much.

The late night 'Daily Show' marathons.

The after work drinks at Moe's that always turned into one drink too many.

Bra free Sundays.

"Stop it," she snaps from behind the newspaper.

"What?"

"Wallowing."

I pout. "I'm not wallowing."

"Yes you are. You're face is all squinchy."

Picking up a spoon I check my reflection. She's right, I am all squinched up. I make a hideous face at her, even though she's behind the paper.

"I saw that."

"Did not."

Grinning, she puts the paper down. "No, I didn't. But I know you did it anyway."

Breakfast turns into lunch as we spread ourselves out at the restaurant table. I read the travel and fashion sections of the newspaper, while Rose reads the business reports. After lunch, she pulls out the classified ads again, scouring the lists as I do the Sunday morning Sudoku puzzle.

"You said Greyhill, right?"

"Yeah."

"I think I've found one."

I do a little fist pump as I put the last three into the Sudoku grid, completing the puzzle. "What is it, a timeshare cubby house?"

"No, seriously. It's perfect."

"…two bedrooms, two bathrooms, spacious living and dining, beach views…"

Stoner, college dropout, stripper, all of the above. I'm waiting for the catch.

"…twenty-eight year old professional male…"

He lives with his mom. He's an escort. A nudist.

"…Clean, tidy and friendly, although I work long hours, which means the house is yours most of the time…"

Where's the catch?

"…seven fifty a month including utilities."

"What? That's it?"

Rose nods.

"Gimme that." I snatch the paper from her hands, double checking to make sure she read it all right.

She's right – it's all there, from the non-crazy sounding applicant to the totally affordable-on-my-crappy-wage rent.

Rose types the contact number into my phone. "Seems perfect."

"Yeah. A little too perfect if you ask me."

* * *

_Tiff and Meg, along with PTB made this chapter perfectly pretty. Thank you. _

_For future reference, each chapter of this story will be 1001 words exactly. It will be 99% fluff and 1% drama. No angst - zero. In fact, it is, as AlbyMangroves calls it, 'Flomedy'._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 6 - Classroom**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"Holy shit."

When he said beach views, he wasn't kidding. The apartment building is literally across the street from the beach. I can smell the salt and sunblock from the front step.

A welcoming voice buzzes me in, and I make my way upstairs to the top floor.

I fidget uncomfortably in the elevator, fluffing my hair, straightening my dress, sniffing my armpits. One advantage to working in fashion is that I always have a million clothes to choose from. Rose was just as unhappy to leave my wardrobe as she was me, though I do think she stole my favorite jacket and some black pumps.

The elevator door opens and I make my way to apartment 6A, and with one last calming breath, I knock on the door.

My heart leaps into my throat as the door swings open. I was not at all prepared for a cute guy. I mean, I look nice; brand new summer dress - not too short, not too slutty, just right. But had I known Mr. Men's Health was going to open the door, I probably would have worn something shorter and much, much sluttier.

"Hey, Isabella, right?" His smile makes my insides flutter.

"That's me."

"Edward. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

"Nice to meet you, Edward."

He opens the door wider and allows me to step inside.

"Wow."

As awesomely handsome as Edward is, his apartment is beyond words. Ceiling to floor windows line the east facing walls, giving a breathtaking panoramic view of the ocean and beach front. Pristine white carpets and masculine yet beautifully designed furniture fills the space in the living and dining room. I'm suddenly glad I don't have any furniture, lest my crappy old futon ruin what could be the nicest apartment I've ever seen.

"So, you said on the phone that you're starting a job around here?" he asks, looking as nervous as I feel.

"Um, yeah. I work for Babineaux."

"Oh, cool. My mom bought me one of their scarves for my birthday last year."

"Your mom has good taste." Cute and loaded - what are the odds?

"She likes to think so." He seems a little awkward; his eyes kind of dart around the place and his hands alternate between his back pockets and his hair.

"So what about you, Edward? What do you do?"

"I'm a teacher. I teach fourth grade."

Fuck! Cute, rich AND good with kids. Kill. Me. Now.

"I'm over at St. Andrew's, so I leave pretty early most mornings and get home around seven-thirty."

How on earth this guy is living alone is beyond me. If he'd moved into my building, I would have been camped outside his apartment or baking him brownies just so that I could deliver them in my see-through pajamas.

_Stop that! _

There's nothing to say he _doesn't_ have a girlfriend. The place _does_ look decidedly manly, and there aren't any photos of said girlfriend around. Maybe he's celibate, or asexual? _Please God, no._

"So this is the place," he says, rubbing a long finger over his eyebrow. "Uh – the kitchen is there." He points to the open-plan kitchen across the room; all dark wood and marble. I instantly want to rummage through the cupboards and play with all of the knobs on the oven.

"You're welcome to anything that's in there. I tend to eat out most of the time," he says, looking a little sheepish. "So there's not a lot in the way of food."

"There's WiFi and cable TV." He points to an enormous flat screen on the wall, complete with surround sound. "And the bedroom is down here."

Edward leads me down a hallway, and I try, and fail, to look at anything except for his ass in what is an exceptionally well-fitted pair of jeans. The bedroom is medium sized, not overly big, but not cramped either.

"It doesn't have an ensuite, but the master bedroom does, so the other bathroom is…yours…I guess."

_A whole bathroom to myself?_

He leads me to the bathroom, and I almost cry as I see the huge shower and massive vanity.

"It's beautiful," I whimper. I can see Edward in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, grinning as I open every drawer and cupboard.

We chat for a little while longer, and it's clear almost immediately that Edward would be a great roommate. He's easy to talk to, smart, funny and to be honest, if he _were_ a nudist, it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"You're the first normal person I've had come through."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. One girl asked if she could install a stripper pole in the bedroom. Another guy asked if I would mind if he brought a camera setup in. I didn't even want to ask what for."

"Well, yours was the first normal ad I saw."

"Then it's fate," he says, smiling. "Wait – you don't have any bad habits, do you?"

"Just hard core drugs and porn, but that's not a problem is it?"

_God, Bella! Shut your mouth, you're scaring the cute teacher man._

Thankfully, cute teacher man shares my twisted sense of humor. "Not if you share the good porn."

My smile mimics his: silly and cheek-splitting.

"You have a really pretty smile." His eyes widen in shock, and he slaps his palm against his forehead. "Fuck. I'm sorry, that just came out." He looks mortified. "Please say you'll still take the room."

"Take it? You're letting me move in?"

"Well, yeah. If you want it, it's yours."

I'm busting to break into a victory dance but manage to keep it under wraps. "When can I move in?"

"Tomorrow?"

Before I can reply, his phone rings suddenly, and he makes an apologetic face as he steps back to answer it.

"Hey, baby," he says quietly, turning his back to me. "Listen, Sam, can I call you back?"

Beautiful apartment.

Designer furniture.

Wears expensive scarves.

No girlie shit around.

Damn it.

All the good ones are gay.

* * *

_Meg and Tiff, along with PTB made this chapter clean and shiny. Any errors are mine since i'm fiddly. _

_Thank you, and see you tomorrow :)_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 8 - Department Store  
Pen Name: MissWinkles  
Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward  
Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:  
thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

The new Babineaux flagship store sits facing Blairmont Main Beach. Its luminous gold and red logo glitters in the early morning sun, the reflection of the picture-perfect beach bouncing off its dark tinted windows. The esplanade is lined with designer stores and boutiques with labels like Moschino, Lanvin and Prada. Tiny little designer dogs strut past the stores, their too-posh-to-sweat owners jogging behind.

The security guard, Demitri, pushes open the heavy, metal gates that secure the front of the store, and steps aside for me. The key turns smoothly in the heavy-duty lock, and the double-glazed door swings open. The store smells like fresh paint, and everything is mirror-finish spotless.

"By golly, that's loud!" says Demitri as I punch in the code to disarm the high-pitched alarm.

"Imagine how loud it is when the alarm actually goes off."

He smiles, his blue-grey eyes crinkling at the sides. "Well, at least you won't have to call me. I'll be able to hear it from my place!"

We share a laugh as I begin to open the store for the day.

"Hey, Demitri. What on earth do you think about all day just standing out front?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes I sing show tunes in my head."

"Anything in particular?" I ask as I flip the light switches, smiling contentedly as a soft amber glow falls over the shelving.

"Rodgers and Hammerstein," replies Demitri, brushing his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. "_Oklahoma!_ and _Carousel_ are my favourites."

"What? No _Sound of Music_?"

"Bah," dismisses Demitri. "Too long."

Moving to his post at the front door, Demitri whistles a song from _South Pacific_ as I finish opening up.

Emily and Jane arrive shortly after, and before we know it, the store is swamped with customers. When I say swamped, I mean at least ten people. Which for a high-end designer store, whose cheapest item is a two hundred dollar tiepin – is a lot.

I'm so swept up in the rush that it seems like the next time I look up, it's already closing time.

"Excuse me, Bella. There's a man here to see you," says Jane quietly, her pale blue eyes filled with thinly-disguised interest.

"Who is it?"

Jane shrugs, her hand fluttering to her chest. "He didn't say. But, good Lord, he's gorgeous."

I check my reflection in a mirror quickly, giving my hair a little fluff and checking to make sure there's no food in my teeth. Jane escorts me over to the men's section, where almost instantly I see a flash of copper-colored hair sticking out from behind a rack of winter coats. What a waste of a hair fluff.

"My God, even your sale items are expensive," Edward complains as he thumbs a price tag.

"You know, since we're friends and all, I could give you a discount."

Edward smiles that mega watt smile of his, all perfect teeth and lips. I swear, somewhere at the back of the store, a woman faints. "We're on friend status already?"

I shrug, trying to act nonplussed about the fact that he's dazzling everyone within a ten-foot radius, me included. "Sure. Just need to log onto Facebook to make it official."

"I'm honored," he says, holding a hand over his heart. "Fuck!" His eyes widen in shock. "Who buys a shirt for six hundred dollars? Was it handmade by magic elves?"

"Yes," I reply, tucking the crisp shirtsleeve back into its place. "Tiny little French elves."

"I hope they're paid well," he deadpans, strolling around, touching things, picking items up and turning them over as he goes.

"Of course. Elf labor isn't cheap these days. Those goddamn unions, bleeding us dry." I walk behind him, refolding and neatening everything he touches.

He sighs as he leans against the front counter. "Those poor little French elves, sewing expensive shirts until their fingers bleed, all so they can feed their tiny little elf children soft cheese and croissants."

Emily practically falls over her own feet as she walks by, her eyes glued to the lean, long-legged man lounging against the granite counter. Dress him in that six hundred dollar shirt and a pair of slim cut navy slacks and he could be the face of Babineaux's new summer line. The angular cut of his jaw, the perfect set of his shoulders…

_Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!_

"What are you doing here again?"

He shrugs. "Loitering."

"How delinquent of you."

"Excuse me?" a woman asks, holding up a black and a white blazer in each hand. "Black or white?"

I open my mouth to reply, but Edward cuts me off. "Black. It's more slimming. Not that you need it."

And then he winks at her. _Winks_.

"You're a doll," the woman replies, smiling at him as she tosses the black blazer onto the counter.

"Glad I could help," he replies as he stands straight, pulling his Wayfarers back onto his nose. "See you at home, Bella."

He strolls off, whistling _Oklahoma!_ as he goes.

"Excuse me," interrupts the woman at the counter, fingers snapping in my face.

_Right. Stop staring at his ass. It's completely and utterly inappropriate and wrong on so many levels._

Finally, after we usher the last few customers out of the door, Jane locks up, and we begin packing things away.

"So, who's the dreamboat with the sex-hair?" asks Emily.

"Heavens," swoons Jane, laying her southern accent on nice and thick, "that man is prettier than a deep-fried pickle."

I sigh wistfully as I pack the jewelry into the safe. "_Pfft_ - if only I was that lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a good looking, single guy with amazing hair and impeccable taste."

Emily cocks her head to one side. "I'm not following."

"He knows how to accessorize?"

Jane shakes her head. "That doesn't mean anything."

"His boyfriend's name is Sam."

"Oh," Emily says with a pout.

"Come on," I urge, shooing them toward the front door. "Let's lock up so I can go home and ogle my gay roommate."

* * *

_Meg and Tiff, along with PTB made this chapter sparkle and shine. Thank you._

_Thank you to everyone who has put this on alert, and for the reviews. xx_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 20 - Parking Lot**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"You know, if you keep cooking like this, I'm going to have to charge you extra rent to pay for a gym membership," Edward says as he polishes off his second plate of syrup-covered French toast.

"Well, maybe if you didn't eat your weight in sugary breakfast goods, you wouldn't need a gym membership."

He practically whines as I pull the empty plate from under him. One thing I've learned about Edward in the weeks we've been living together is that I can make him do practically anything if I bribe him with food. Only yesterday, I'd convinced him to schlep down to the convenience store for more milk in return for a batch of homemade meatballs. Easy.

We'd fallen into an easy routine since we began living together; I cooked, he cleaned. It was a match made in heaven - especially for me, who hated cleaning. And apart from the household routine, it hadn't taken long for a sense of familiarity to kick in between us. I was comfortable and happy. It was one of those rare relationships that made it feel as though you'd known each other for years, rather than weeks.

Leaning back on his chair, Edward rubs his hand over his stomach. "What are you up to today?"

"All sorts of fun things," I lie. "Laundry, cleaning my room, paying some bills. Want to join me?"

Edward makes a face, shaking his head. "Fuck, no."

I read my sections of the newspaper while Edward cleans the kitchen, tidying up my cooking mess. "Jesus, did you have to use every pot and pan in the kitchen?" I flip him my middle finger, and just as he finishes the dishes, his phone rings. I watch as he flips the dishtowel over his shoulder and takes the call out on to the balcony. It's easy to see what Sam sees in Edward. He's extremely witty and sweet and good natured. Other than the fact that he leaves his half-empty coffee cups all over the apartment, he's a totally awesome guy. I try not to watch as he paces up and down the balcony looking frustrated. I keep plugging away at the newspaper, reminding myself not to pry, while making a conscious effort to remember what it is I'm reading. I'm failing miserably - I've read the same line three times - when Edward comes back inside, tossing his phone between his open hands. I want to ask if everything is okay, but the look on his face tells me to let it go. Instead, I bite my tongue and watch him disappear into his bedroom from the corner of my eye.

After a morning of procrastination, I pack the paper up and head to my room to get my laundry sorted. I despise laundry with the fire of a thousand suns. If I had enough money I'd just have everything dry-cleaned. Lucky for me, Edward stops me in the hallway before I make it to my room.

"You want to get out of the apartment for a while?"

The pile of clothes in my bedroom is mountainous – the old pair of underwear I'm wearing cements that fact. But Edward looks so hopeful, and I can see he's got a whole ton of pent-up frustration he's trying to vent. So who am I to refuse?

"Sure."

Out of the apartment, Edward leads me a few blocks away where a market has been set up on the streets. Vendors selling everything from food to clothes, antiques to jewelry, line the streets. It all culminates in an empty parking lot where the stalls mishmash together to create a bazaar of sorts; their colorful awnings brilliant in the midday sun. We wander through the busy streets smelling handmade soaps and perfumes, picking through boxes of vinyl records and drinking local cider.

"This is so great," I gush, my cheeks feeling warm and a little flushed from my fourth apple and blackcurrant cider.

Edward grins, and I can see he's already feeling better. Whatever was troubling him earlier seems to have evaporated with time, fresh air and tasty booze.

"They have these markets every three months, but I've never come down before."

"Never?" I ask, gobsmacked.

He shrugs one shoulder. "Sam's not really into any of this stuff."

It strikes me as odd that Sam wouldn't make the trip just to make Edward happy, even if he isn't into it himself. But whatever, their business is their business.

"Tell me more about your family," I ask, stopping at a second-hand clothing stall. "Is it just you and your sister?"

Thumbing through the clothes idly, Edward nods. "Uh-huh. My parents didn't think they could have any more kids after me. Alice was sort of an unexpected surprise later in life."

I pick up a black knitted cap and push it onto Edward's head. "I bet they just love Sam."

He checks it out in the mirror, nodding his approval. "I guess so. They're really supportive of our relationship. They know it's not easy."

Edward laughs as he tugs a brown furry beanie onto my head, complete with ears and long tassels. "Cute."

I roll my eyes and pull it off. "And do Alice and Sam get along okay?"

Edward pays for the cap and a scarf for me, ignoring me as I try to offer him money. "Most of the time. Ali can be a handful; she's only fourteen. I think Sam gets a little suffocated by Ali's attention, you know?"

"I get it. Fourteen-year-old girls can be a little over the top sometimes."

"Yeah, Alice is dramatic at the best of times."

With our shopping bags in hand, we begin the walk back to our apartment. The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the footpaths as we walk along the esplanade.

Edward pushes my shoulder lightly with his, smiling. "Thank you for coming out with me today."

I sigh, content and tipsy-happy. "It was my pleasure. I had a lovely time."

* * *

_Meg and Tiff, along with PTB made this chapter perfect and sweet like apple cider. Thank you._

_And thank you all for reading :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 4 - Bookstore  
Pen Name: MissWinkles  
Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward  
Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:  
thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

It's a beautiful Saturday morning, I've got my iPod in my ears and I'm making toasted muesli. Life is good.

On our way home from the market the week before, Edward and I stumbled upon a used bookstore. He actually had to pull me out of the shop after he caught me trying to buy a book titled _365 Ways to Cook a Hamburger_. In the end, he let me take a few cool nineteen-sixties cookbooks home.

I shimmy and shake my way around the kitchen, singing into a wooden spoon.

"_My heart is beating like a jungle druuum, it goes_…JESUS CHRIST!"

Edward rubs his tired looking eyes as I almost drop the entire bowl of muesli on the floor.

"Edward!" I yell, slapping him with the back of the spoon. "You scared the shit out of me. Fucking sneaky, motherfucker."

He chuckles, wiping a blob of cereal from his arm, "You swear a lot when you're angry." I scowl as he licks the mix from his fingers. "Oh fuck," he moans, "that's good."

Waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal, I spoon the mix onto another baking tray. "Stop that!" I growl, laughing as his fingers narrowly miss the spoon as he steals another mouthful of cereal from the tray.

He grins, chewing slowly.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he scratches at his bare chest, his sleep shorts hanging obscenely low on his hips. He has that little smattering of hair that trails down his stomach and into the waistband of his pants. It's like a path to the promise land. A sandy colored, soft looking path…and dear God, I'm checking out my gay housemate.

One positive of having Edward as my roommate, is that it's nice to be able to be myself around the house. If Edward were straight, I'd be prancing around in my shortest pajama bottoms and a full face of makeup. Instead, I get to wear one of my dad's ratty old t-shirts and my multicolored sleep socks.

"You're going to make me fat with all this cooking."

"Whatever. You'd be a hot fat guy," I reply, waving a spoon at him.

A message alert trills, and both Edward and I reach for our phones.

"It's mine," he says. He squints at the screen, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip as he reads. After a moment, he frowns and lets out a long breath, focusing intently on the screen as he types.

"I think it's cute you call Sam '_baby'._"

Looking up, Edward makes a strange face. "Why? Baby's a normal pet name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, of course. It's just cute is all. Do you have a pet name?"

He blushes. "No."

"Bullshit," I fire back, pulling a hot tray from the oven. The smell of cinnamon and oranges fills the kitchen, and Edward practically launches himself over the countertop, reaching for the tray. "Stop!" I yell, holding it out of his reach. "Tell me your nickname first."

He groans. "No. It's too embarrassing."

I spoon some of the crunchy, still warm cereal into a bowl and drizzle some honey over the top. "Come on, please?"

"Fuck!" he moans, pouting as I spoon a big helping of fresh berries on top. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"It's just a name, Edward. Tell me."

He purses his lips, and I can see him weighing the embarrassment of revealing Sam's pet name for him with the delicious bowl of cinnamon-sugary goodness.

Pet name.

Breakfast.

Pet name.

Breakfast.

"Fine. Fine! It's…sugar buns. "

My lips quiver as I try to keep my laughter in. But he can see it, threatening to break free.

"Shut up!" He reaches across and steals the bowl from me, ignoring me as I laugh into a tea towel.

"Sorry, sugar buns," I say, wiping a tear from my eye.

He grumbles into his bowl, flipping me his middle finger.

"Whatever, I bet you and he are totally cute together." I sigh.

He looks up, confused. "He…what? Who are you talking about?"

"Sam."

"What?"

"Wait. Who are _you_ talking about?"

"Sam," says Edward, waving his spoon around. "My fiancée."

A blob of cereal falls off my spoon and into the bowl.

"Sam's a girl?"

"Since the day she was born."

Edward looks at me like I've lost the plot, and to be honest, I think I might have.

My mouth falls open in shock.

"Oh my God."

"What?" Edward's eyebrows furrow, the skin creasing in the middle for a moment before it smoothes out as recognition sets in. "Oh my God!"

"OH MY GOD!" I yell, pulling my t-shirt lower, trying to cover more of myself. Of course, this just pulls the neckline lower, exposing my shoulder and décolletage.

"You thought I was gay?" yells Edward as I hightail it to my bedroom, my hands covering my ass as I run. "How…I…WHY?"

"You're a single guy living in a swanky looking apartment…" I grab the nearest pair of sweat pants and toss them on. "…you have a significant other whose name is SAM, which I'm sorry, IS A GUY'S NAME!" I throw a jacket over my t-shirt and pull my hair up off my face.

"It's short for Samantha! I can't believe you thought I was gay!"

I stomp out to the living room where Edward is still sitting at the breakfast bench, stunned.

"You own a three-hundred dollar Babineaux scarf."

"It was a gift!" argues Edward with a snort. "And I don't wear it; it's hideous! Are you wearing a ski jacket?"

"Never mind that! Your hair…"

Edward runs his hands through his hair. "What about my hair?"

"It's perfect! It looks like you just rolled out of bed and onto a catwalk. I figured it had to be a salon job."

"That's ridiculous, I…" He stops mid-sentence, frowning. "What?"

"Oh my God!" I squeal. I can feel my entire body blushing as I run to my bedroom again. "I pee'd with the door open!"

* * *

_Meg and Tiff, along with PTB made this chapter wonderfully wonderful. Plus, Tiff let me ramble about what Muesli is. Apparently it's not that common in the US. _

_Hope you guys are enjoying :) Drop me a review if you feel that way inclined._

_See you on Monday xx_


	6. Chapter 6

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 2 - Ballet Studio**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

My feet ache as I drag them up the corridor towards the apartment. As beautiful as they are, heels were not a good choice.

When I open the door to the apartment, I find Edward sprawled out on the sofa with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. We've been dancing around the whole faux-gay subject for the past week. He seems happy to pretend like it never happened, but I can tell it has damaged his fragile male ego.

I dump my handbag and flop onto the sofa beside him. He continues to flip through the channels, stopping on the cooking channel for a moment, and then changing it quickly.

"Can you stop pouting about the whole gay thing, please?" I beg, giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

"I'm not pouting."

Pressing the tip of my finger to his bottom lip, I nod. "Yes you are. See?"

Stifling a laugh, he bats my hand away and tucks his lip between his teeth.

"I'm sorry times a million. Forgive me?"

Edward shakes his head ruefully. "I should have guessed when you asked me if I thought Ryan Gosling was cute."

Kicking off my shoes, I get into a more comfortable position. "Yeah and you probably shouldn't have said yes."

Edward picks at the label of his beer with his thumbnail. "True. Although, for a guy…"

"Shut up!" I shove him as he laughs. "You're just confusing me further. What the fuck are we watching?"

"Wrestling."

"Since when do you like wrestling?"

"Since forever."

We watch as a burly guy with a blonde ponytail and black, assless chaps smashes a folding chair over his opponent's head. "Bullshit."

Edward's lips curl into a devious smile. I reach for the remote but he holds it just out of my reach, laughing as I practically climb him in an attempt to get to it. "Edward," I whine. "Change the channel, please?"

"No! Wrestling is manly, I want to watch wrestling."

On my knees beside him on the sofa, I stop wriggling. "Is that what this is about? You're trying to assert your male dominance or something?"

"No." He blinks slowly. "Yes."

"Why don't you just pee on everything?"

"Because, that's gross. Wrestling is manly. I'm manly. I like beer," he holds up his drink, "and sports, and women, and…rattlesnakes."

"Uh-huh. Well, I'm going out for dinner to get myself hideously drunk. You coming?"

Edward does a fist pump as he turns the TV off. "Sounds manly enough to me."

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" asks Edward, his eyes busy scanning the menu.

_Way to be blunt, Edward. _

"Because I have terrible taste in men. Do you think they would put ranch on my pizza if I asked?"

"It can't be that bad. Your taste in men I mean, not pizza. Ranch dressing? Really?"

"You'll try it and you'll like it. Trust. And, _not that bad?_ Edward - my last boyfriend broke up with me because he met a mail-order bride at a Burning Man festival."

"No way."

"Way. Apparently while they were high on _shrooms_ they realized they were meant for each other."

"Shit, that is bad luck."

"Not bad luck, just bad taste."

The waitress agrees to bring me a side order of ranch dressing with my cheese pizza, and Edward orders another round of drinks.

"So tell me about Sam."

"We met at a party in college," he says, pushing the lemon slice down into the neck of his bottle. "We hit it off and we've been together ever since."

I roll my eyes. "And?"

"And...what?" he asks, scrubbing his hand over his head before putting his cap back on.

"What does she do? What does she look like? When are you getting married?"

He fishes his phone from his pocket, and fiddles for a moment before handing it over.

"Wow."

"She's cute, right?"

"Cute? Goddamn! I gotta say, Edward; you're batting way above your average here."

"Shut up," he chuckles, snatching his phone back.

"So where is she? Why haven't I seen _that_ fine ass coming out of the bedroom in the mornings?"

"You saying I haven't got a fine ass?"

I snort. "Please. You know you have a great ass."

He at least has the decency to blush. And after that comment, I tell myself no more vodka tonics.

"She's in Moscow, dancing with the Bolshoi Ballet."

"Well, fuck. That's awesome. Ballerinas are bendy, right?"

Edward scrunches up his face, trying to hide a slight blush as he pulls his hat down lower on his head.

"So, Moscow, huh? That's a long way away, it must be difficult."

Edward nods, smiling sadly. "Yeah, but it's what she wanted to do. And it's only for another two months."

The pizza and my little bowl of dressing arrive and Edward screws up his nose but takes a bite nonetheless.

"That is...surprisingly good," he says, chewing thoughtfully.

"Right? I'm the queen of weird food habits. Pretzels and Pepsi. Ice cream and popcorn. Pickles and peanut butter."

"You're just plain weird," says Edward around a mouthful of pizza.

I grin, showing a mouthful of cheesy ranch goodness. "That's why you like me."

Dinner is great. The food is delicious and Edward is great company. He's funny and incredibly witty – it's fucking tragic. The one time I find a great guy – he's taken. By a gorgeous, flaxen-haired ballerina no less. I don't stand a snowball's chance in hell.

"So, this boyfriend thing," says Edward, wiping his long fingers on a napkin. "I think I can help."

"Please don't."

He gulps down the last of his beer, grinning as he swallows. Full of greasy pizza and garlic bread, both he and I are a little tipsy.

"Yes!" he says with a clap. "I can be your wing man!"

"No," I groan. "Just, no."

He pouts. "Why?"

"Because it's weird, that's why."

"It's not weird! Come on," he says, flipping his hood up over his cap. "Finish your freaky pizza and let's go."

* * *

_Tiff and Meg, my super Beta team, made this chapter gloriously perfect. Thank you._

_And thank you to everyone who has reviewed, or put the story on alert. _


	7. Chapter 7

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 24 - Sporting Goods Store**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"You're where?"

"Newton's Sports World."

"Rosalie Hale, what the fuck are you doing in a sports store?"

Rose sighs loudly, sounding frustrated. "Emmett needs new basketball shoes. Do you know how much those things cost?"

I make a face as I inspect the ends of my hair, picking at the split ends. "Too much."

"Exactly."

Rolling my aching neck, I move the phone from one shoulder to the other. "How's life in the 'burbs? You bake any apple pies lately?"

"You're hilarious," deadpans Rose, and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes at me through the phone. "So, tell me more about this Edward."

I shrug and then realize she can't see me. "What's to tell? He's nice, funny, and actually has good taste in music, which is more than I can say about my previous housemate."

"Uh-huh, I'll ignore that, keep going."

"I don't know. He's easy to live with, I guess. We sort of bounce off each other, and he's fun to joke around with. He's smart too, like cryptic crosswords in the newspaper smart."

"Mh-hm."

I drop my split-ended hair and narrow my eyes. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't _nothing_ me. What?"

"You've got a thing for hottie teacher man."

I snort, shaking my head. "I do not."

"Do too."

"No way. He's got a girlfriend."

"No," argues Rose. "He's got a fiancé."

"Same thing."

"Bella," she almost sighs. "Be careful, please."

"I don't know what you mean."

I do know what she means.

"From one friend to another, you're walking a thin line. Just remember that he's _engaged_." She really emphasises the word and it seems to cement itself right into my brain.

_Engaged_. _Engaged._

"He's going to be married. To a woman."

Despair settles heavily in my chest. It's one thing to _know_, it's another to hear it. My relationship with Edward walks a blurry, and somewhat shifting, line. I need to remember that somewhere, a thousand miles away, is a woman who loves him, and who he loves in return. I am not that woman; I am his housemate and friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Yeah, I know."

"You're not the _other_ woman, Bella. You're better than that."

"I know."

"And I know you know, I'm just saying; put yourself in his fiancé's shoes next time you think about checking out his ass."

"Got it."

"Okay, good. That's all I'm going to say on the matter because it's depressing as fuck. But, on the flip side, you should see if he's got any hot single friends."

"Ugh, no. Matchmaking always ends up badly. Remember when you set me up with that guy, Peter, from Emmett's basketball team?"

"Oh, yeah. The Mumbler."

"_Oh, hey, Bellaaah. I was __wonderingifyoumightwffnnyyggo _out sometime?"

Rose and I are laughing at my embarrassing dating history when the sound of the front door closing echoes down the hallway.

"Shit, Rose, I gotta go. I told Edward I was going grocery shopping two hours ago, and I haven't moved."

"Sure thing. Call me next week and we'll organize dinner."

In ratty leggings and a hoodie, I wander out to the living room, realizing too late that it's not just Edward.

"Bella, this is my friend Jake," yells Edward from somewhere in the kitchen.

Jake smiles, a set of perfectly straight day-glow white teeth gleaming between a set of the cutest dimples you're ever seen. He's got on a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt, his chest damp with sweat. And, as if that isn't enough, Edward appears, and suddenly I can't remember how to blink or breathe. A pair of long black shorts rest low on his defined hips, his chest - also bare - is covered with a sheen of perspiration. His hair is in complete disarray, damp and pushed out of his face.

"Sup," says Jake, his eyes lingering on my cotton-covered body.

I tear my eyes away from the half-naked panting dude in my kitchen and focus on the other half-naked dude standing right in front of me. "Hey."

Jake smiles and I can already see that's how he gets the girls. It's a mix of sweet and cocky, and I bet it's like battery acid and just melts the underwear right off.

"You're cute," he says looking me up and down.

"Jake!" yells Edward, frowning.

He laughs, shrugging. "What? You said she was pretty. She's not pretty - she's fucking smoking!"

"You called me pretty?"

Edward makes a face. "He's exaggerating."

Jake tears his eyes away from me for a second as Edward tosses him a bottle of water. "Nope. You definitely called her pretty."

Water tumbles out of his bottle as Edward pushes his foot into a spot behind Jake's knee, making him stumble. "Yes, thank you for that, Jake."

"What?" he chuckles, righting himself. "You know," he continues, "you need to have a moving in party or something; introduce everybody to Bella."

Scrubbing his hands through his damp hair, Edward nods. "I guess we could do that. What do you think?"

"Sounds like fun. Who's everybody? Your posse?"

Lifting his head like a rapper, Edward makes a gang sign. "Just my crew."

"Fo-sho. Bring a few homies and we can sip forties and smoke blunts."

We bump fists lightly. "Fo shizzle my nizzle."

Jake looks at us both like we've grown tentacles. "You two are fucking weird, you know that, right?"

Edward punches Jake on the arm, grinning. "_You're_ fucking weird."

"Your mom is weird," fires back Jake, and immediately Edward has him in a headlock.

"Take that back! Esme Cullen is a saint!"

Laughing, Jake tries to punch Edward in the kidneys from behind. "I take it back!"

Edward releases Jake's head, and he stands up. "I take it back. Your mom's not weird, she's a fucking MILF!"

And with that they're off again, laughing as they wrestle like two teenagers.

I sidestep the swearing, grunting, tussling men on my way to the kitchen. "You know, Edward, you're not doing much to dispel the gay vibe."

* * *

_Tiff and Meg gave this the old spit and shine. Bless them._

_I apologise for the gratuitous Anchorman reference. I'm just too excited for the sequel._

_Love to Catamaran - my Rose. x_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 22 - Prom**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

_Note_: I'm letting my music nerd show here. Indulge me.

* * *

"Veto. You can't play Bon Iver at a house party."

Flipping through my iPod, Edward frowns. "Why not? What have you got against Bon Iver?"

"Absolutely nothing. I have nothing but love for Mr. Vernon. But it's a party and, as awesome as he is, people can't dance to _Skinny Love_."

"We could try."

Cocking an eyebrow, I wave my hand, gesturing to the floor in front of us. "Go on then. Show me."

Jumping to his feet, Edward starts swaying from side to side slowly, his hand in the air holding an imaginary lighter as he sings. Every second word is mumbled or wrong, and he looks completely ridiculous as he dances like a drunken hipster; his voice straining to hit the high notes. It's stupid and adorable and makes me smile. "Those aren't the words," I tease.

Huffing, he slides to the ground next to me. "It's Bon Iver; no one knows the real words." He picks up my iPod again as I continue to flick through his.

"Jesus, Edward! The Decembrists? Postal Service? Could your taste in music be any more emo-hipster-indie-alt-rock?"

"Excuse me," he says, pulling his player from my hands. "My taste in music is perfect, thank you."

"Uh-huh."

He is right though. His taste in music _is_ perfect; right down to Beastie Boys and Fleet Foxes. It's just another one of those annoying things I like about him.

Since my conversation with Rose, I've been very conscious not to overstep my mark. I've kept lewd thoughts to a minimum and have been nothing but platonic-friend-Bella, helpful and friendly. But then sometimes, like right now, it's like he does things to test my limits. Like pouting his lips ever so slightly as he scrolls through my iPod, making my insides flutter and my head spin. It's making it increasingly hard to concentrate on the player in my hands.

"What's on your party playlist that makes it so great?" he asks.

Tearing my eyes away from his lips, I rifle through my makeup bag, looking for my favorite polish as he flips through my 'Party Time' playlist.

"Whitney Houston?" he spits, looking at me incredulously. "What is this, a party or a prom?"

"Everyone loves Whitney. The last time I had a party, Rose's boyfriend sang _'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' _to her at the top of his lungs."

He makes a face, cocking his head to one side. "Veto."

"Fine," I concede. Each of us agreed to one song veto when picking the list, I'm a little bummed he used it on Whitney, but he's only halfway through the list and I already know he'll be itching to get rid of a few more.

"Notorious BIG?" he asks, looking thoroughly perplexed.

Bingo!

"It's a good song!"

"Wrong."

"It is!"

He shakes his head. "Uh-uh. No. No rap in my house. Veto."

"Hey! You used your veto on Whitney. Nineties rap stays. And you mean _our_ house?"

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he turns to plug the player into the speakers. "Yes, sorry, _our_ house."

"How many are coming tonight?" I ask, applying the last coat of coral-colored polish to my toes.

"About twenty, I think."

"Cool."

"Is your friend Rose coming?"

Ignoring a wave of disappointment, I blow on my toenails, helping them dry. "No. They have some McCarty family reunion somewhere."

"Bummer."

Edward and I spent the morning packing away most of the valuable things and cleaning the apartment. I strung up a bunch of fairy lights outside and Edward bought enough beer to sink a ship. The cupboards are full of chips and dip and every other snack food variety available. I've got a killer new outfit, which always makes me feel better. Both Emily and Jane from work are stopping by, and Jake's promised to get me good and drunk, which I guess is his way of saying welcome to the "family". Save for the almost two-hour long argument regarding music, we are officially all set for a housewarming party.

"Hey, my friend Garrett is coming tonight," says Edward out of the blue. "The one I work with."

With my chin on my knees, my toenails become the focal point of my attention as Edward dances around what I know is going to be another attempt to set me up with someone. "Uh-huh."

I can feel him looking at the side of my face, trying to gauge my reaction. "Yeah. He's cool; I think you guys would get along."

"Yep."

"Bella?"

"Edward."

I move to stand up but he grabs my hand, keeping me rooted to the carpet. "Come on!"

"No! No, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes! He's a cool guy and you're totally his type."

My jaw drops open. "You told him about me?"

"A little," answers Edward sheepishly.

"That's even worse!" I yell, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Why? I didn't tell him much, just that you were smart and beautiful and funny, and that you two would hit it off."

Hiding my face in my knees, I groan. "Great. Now I have to be funny, smart, AND make sure I look hot."

Laughing, Edward rubs a hand up and down my back. "I'm sure you'll look great. Just talk to him. If nothing happens, nothing happens. What do you have to lose?"

Lifting my head, I roll my eyes at him. "You said that last time. And now you owe me a pair of shoes. Let's not make it two!"

Edward makes an apologetic face. "He didn't look that drunk from the other side of the bar."

"Whatever. Worst wingman ever."

Sliding across the carpet, Edward presses his side against mine. "Okay," he says quietly, his breath tickling my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Here's the deal. If you meet Garrett tonight, and you guys don't click, I'll never try to set you up on a date ever again. Deal?"

He nudges me lightly when I don't reply.

"Fine. Deal."

* * *

_Thank you to Meg and Tiff for making the chapter shine._

_Thank you for reading and for the lovely reviews x_


	9. Chapter 9

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 12 - Gymnasium**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"I need another beer. Do you want one?"

Garrett nods and I leave the boys out on the balcony, marching quickly into the kitchen.

Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

When he introduced himself, I almost choked on my drink. Between Jake with his dark skin and dazzling smile, Edward with his…well…everything, and now Garrett; Edward may have the most attractive friends I've ever seen. I momentarily ponder which gym they all go to, wondering if I might stroll past one day….with binoculars.

"Oh my God, Edward!" I gush, finding him alone in the kitchen.

"Oh my God, what?" he asks, pouring tequila into a shot glass.

"Do you scout Abercrombie and Fitch casting calls for friends? What the fuck, man?"

His brows knit together as he screws the lid back on the bottle. "What?"

"Garrett!" I burst, shaking him lightly. "First Jake and now him. Where do you find your friends?" I ask, excited and maybe a little tipsy.

Edward doesn't even smile before he throws back a shot, wincing afterwards. He's barely swallowed one before he's pouring another. "Good for you and Garrett."

I look over at Garrett who's out on the balcony, smoking, looking like he's posing in a fucking magazine. "You were right, he's really nice."

Edward slams the empty shot glass down again. "Uh-huh."

I hold my hand over the top of the glass as he moves to pour another. "What's up your butt?"

Frowning, he removes my hand. "Nothing's up my butt."

"Something _is_ up your butt," I joke, pointedly checking out his ass. "Oh yeah, there's definitely something going on up there."

"There's nothing wrong, okay?" he snaps.

I'm a little taken back by his words. When he doesn't even acknowledge me, doesn't even _look_ at me afterwards, it stings even more.

"Jeez, alright. Whatever." I hold my hands up in surrender as I brush past him and grab two beers from the sink, shaking the ice from them.

"You okay?" asks Jake when I return outside.

Taking a deep breath, I hand Garrett his beer and smile. "I'm fine."

I'm not going to let Edward's outburst ruin my buzz or my night.

Garrett keeps a short distance between us, but I can feel him watching me - and I like it. He and Edward are polar opposites, apart from the fact that he's also a teacher. Garrett's features are dark where Edward's are light; short dark hair, shiny brown eyes and a dark scruffy jaw line – he is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

Since Edward seems to have hidden himself away elsewhere, Jake takes it upon himself to introduce me to everyone. He's like the annoying brother I never had. He keeps bringing me beer and makes Garrett and I have shots with him, even after we both vehemently decline.

Around midnight, the music volume goes up and a bunch of people take to dancing on our kitchen table. I should care, but it's too funny, and I'm much, much too drunk.

"Hey! No cheating!" I tease, turning my cards away from Garrett's curious eyes.

He laughs and positions my hands so that my cards are hidden from him. "It's not cheating if you're practically showing me your cards."

Keeping them close to my chest, I pull two out and place them face-down on the table. "Two aces."

Jake narrows his eyes at me, looks at the pile of cards, and then at the cards in his hand.

I just smile - my poker face firmly intact.

Jane smiles, swaying in her seat. "Thr…three aces," she slurs, silly grinning.

"Bullshit," accuses Garrett, and Jake nods in agreement.

Smirking, Jane turns the cards over and shows three aces.

"You cheater!" laughs Garrett, pointing at me as I fist pump the air.

"I am the champion!" I yell, laughing as Jake and Garrett drain their beers in penance.

Eli and Heidi, two of Edward's oldest friends, stop by the table on their way out.

"We're going to head home, but it was so nice to meet you, Bella!" says Heidi, pulling me into a hug. "Is Edward around? Eli wants to say goodbye."

I frown. "I haven't seen him since earlier, sorry."

Heidi shrugs. "No biggie. Tell him we'll call him later in the week, okay?"

"Sure." I wave to Eli who's inside saying goodbye.

"I can't believe Edward's gone AWOL at his own party," I gripe, reshuffling the cards for another game.

Jake waves his hand in dismissal. "It's just Edward being a mopey bastard. He and Sam are….whatever - it's not my place to say anything. He'll get over it, he always does."

At around three-thirty in the morning, it's just Garrett, Jake and I left sitting outside. Jake is so drunk he can barely keep his eyes open, but Garrett and I seem to have a second burst of energy as we sit close, talking quietly.

After Jake stumbles home, Garrett pulls the blanket from the back of the sofa, and brings it out onto the balcony. As the night has worn on there's been an unspoken connection between us. For the past few hours though, it feels like we've been dancing around a kiss. His eyes keep drifting to my lips, and a few times I think he's going to do it, but he doesn't.

Pulling the blanket around the both of us, I settle into his lap, facing the darkened beach.

Finally, just as the sun begins to peek over the horizon, he turns me in his arms, his fingers under my chin, lifting my lips to his. The kiss is tentative, gentle and slow. It's everything a first kiss should be. The gentleman that he is, his hands don't wander, resting on my lower back and upper thigh.

By the time we stop kissing, the sun is almost up, and my lips are tingly and a little sore. I walk Garrett to the door, giving him my number and a final goodbye kiss, before practically floating down the hallway and into bed.

* * *

_Tiff and Meg made this chapter sweeter than kisses from a pretty boy._

_Thank you for reading x_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 11 - Greenhouse**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

It doesn't matter how long I sit in the bottom of the shower, my hangover just won't seem to abate. I've taken three ibuprofen but the queasiness in my stomach just won't quit. Since throwing up isn't an option, I pad to the kitchen barefoot in search of food.

The apartment is a shambles. Bottles, empty beer cups, plastic shot glasses, and pizza boxes cover every flat surface. I make a mental note to smack Jake over the head for bringing those stupid party poppers as I step over piles of papery colored string.

I briefly think about cleaning up, but when I pick up a half empty cup of beer my stomach rolls and I decide to wait a little longer.

It seems Edward has the same idea.

He's standing in the kitchen, bent at the waist, his head resting on the countertop.

"Morning," I rasp, my voice crackly and hoarse.

He just moans in reply, turning his head to the side. There's a red splotch on his forehead where it's been resting on the countertop and his eyes are red and glassy. One look at him brings back the memory of his behavior from the night before. To be honest, I'm too hung over to be pissy; I just wish he hadn't taken whatever his issue was out on me.

I slide onto the bar stool across from him, folding my arms on the bench. The granite is cool on my skin, and I can see why Edward is pressed against it. With a sigh, I lean forward and press my cheek onto the dark stone surface, my head turned towards his.

"You gonna tell me what happened last night?"

Eyes closed, Edward takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I'd rather not."

We sit in silence for a minute or so, enjoying the comfort of the cool benchtop.

"Did he stay the night?" he asks, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together just a fraction.

"No."

He doesn't reply.

"Would it matter if he did?"

Edward takes another breath and opens his eyes.

"No," he replies finally. "No, it wouldn't."

Unable to stand the way he's looking at me, I close my eyes, reveling in the cool granite against my cheek. I'm not sure how long I sit there with my eyes closed, but when I open them again he's still looking at me.

"I'm sorry for being a dick last night," he says quietly.

"Apology accepted," I say with a slight shrug.

He groans, moving his head to find a cool spot on the bench. "Why does it feel like my brain's trying to jackhammer its way out of my head?"

"Maybe it's the entire bottle of tequila you drank last night?"

His face scrunches up and he swallows. "Ugh. I hate tequila."

The thought of lifting my head and actually cooking food makes me want to crawl back into bed.

"You wanna get some breakfast?"

* * *

As if a hangover isn't bad enough, it's already hot and sticky outside. The air feels damp, like a butterfly enclosure or a greenhouse. Edward and I find a café nearby that does breakfast and take a seat inside under the air conditioner. We must look like the Blues Brothers with our sunglasses on inside. But they cover my face and the remnants of last night's eye makeup, so I keep them on.

We sit in comfortable silence; me dying slowly in my chair, Edward reading the Sunday paper. The waitress brings us our breakfast, and I practically inhale my chocolate chip pancakes, smothering them in peanut butter and bacon.

"Sam's staying in Moscow for another three months," blurts Edward, eyeing my breakfast warily.

"What?"

I guess to normal people three months isn't a long time, but since she's already been gone six, it's a big kick in the gut for Edward.

He nods. "She's thinking about staying. She wants me to move over there with her."

My mouth drops open. "To Russia?"

"We got into a big fight about it."

He looks utterly despondent as he pushes his fruit salad around his plate. "It was stupid. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

My fingertips find the back of his hand atop the table. "It's fine."

His hand is warm as he squeezes mine in return. I wonder what it would be like to hold it whenever I liked. It's so much bigger than mine; his fingers long and his skin smooth.

I pull my hand back, tucking it into the pocket of my hoodie and turning my eyes to my lap, trying to clear my head of thoughts that shouldn't be there.

Mimicking my movements, Edward sits back in his chair, dropping his fork with a clatter. "I can't go to Russia. I like my life; I liked _our_ life. I guess it's not enough for her anymore. Maybe... _I'm_ not enough."

I'm at a loss as to what to say. Comfort I can give - advice not so much. It's not that I don't want him to be happy; I just don't want to be _that_ girl, the meddling bitch that tells him that his girlfriend _is_ being a selfish cow.

"Three months is nothing. She'll be home before you know it."

Sighing deeply, he nods. "I know. It's just me being insecure and emo."

"Everyone's entitled to a little insecurity."

Picking up his fork, he leans over to steal some pancake from my plate. "Bacon and peanut butter?"

I move the plate towards him, watching him scoop up melted chocolate and bacon. "Have I failed you yet?"

He smiles around the fork, and it's like my day feels a little brighter. I don't want it to, but his happiness makes me happy. Seeing him smile makes my hangover _almost_ bearable.

"This is so weird," he says, chewing another mouthful. "Getting relationship advice from a chick that eats bacon with chocolate."

I roll my eyes and flick a stray chocolate chip at him.

* * *

_Tiff and Meg are the magic behind the scenes, they're beta work is what makes this readable._

_Loving all the theories and interesting points of view regarding these two. Thank you to everyone who is reviewing. x_

_I'll see you all next week. _


	11. Chapter 11

**BEACH**

Edward grins, waving to Jane as he strides through Babineaux's front doors.

"Don't you ever work?"

"Occasionally," I reply with a shrug. "When the mood strikes me."

It's been a quiet day. The girls and I have cleaned the store from top to bottom and all the new stock has been received and put away. When Edward turns up at five o'clock, I'm playing solitaire on the computer.

He leans on the counter, the way he always does, oblivious to the fact that Emily can barely work a coat hanger while ogling his ass.

"I got a DVD for later," he says, pointing to an ace on the screen, showing me where to move it.

"Cool. I'll pick up some Thai food on the way home."

"Okay. You're terrible at this game." He points another card out and I slap his hand away, scowling.

"I was doing fine until you turned up. You've thrown off my game."

"Working hard, boss lady?"

Both Edward and I look up to see Garret strolling in. He smiles at me, and then Edward, before the two of them launch into a conversation about work. If Emily was having trouble functioning with just Edward around, she's practically drooling as she tries, unsuccessfully, to hang a handbag on a coat hanger. I get it though; with the two of them standing directly in front of me, I'm not sure quite where to look. It's like staring directly at the sun; you could definitely go blind.

"You won Bullshit?" Edward looks at me, stunned.

I blink slowly. "What?"

"Bullshit. The game? Garrett said you won it at the party."

"Oh yeah. I did."

Garrett smiles, taking over Edward's position leaning on the counter. "Yeah, she's got quite a poker face, this one." His lingering eyes turn my stomach in knots and my palms sweaty.

"Really?" asks Edward. "Bella's a shitty liar. It's written all over her face."

"Is not," I argue.

"Sure it is," he says with a nod. "Your top lip twitches when you're lying."

"Does not!" I reply, covering my mouth with my hand.

Garrett laughs as Edward gives me a look that tells me that my lip clearly _does_ twitch.

"Anyway, what are you doing over this way? You two got a bro-date or something?"

Shaking his head, Garrett shoots me a grin. "As hot as a date with Edward sounds, I was actually wondering what _you_ were doing tonight."

"Oh."

My eyes instantly flicker to Edward's, just for a moment, just in time to see them slide away from mine.

"Well, Edward and I were going to get a movie, I think…"

Garrett's grin falters a little, and we both look over at Edward, who's standing to the side, pretending to look interested in a table of silk scarves.

He looks up. "No…don't…it's fine. I've got some work to do for class tomorrow. You two go ahead."

I feel bad for breaking our plans - not that we had concrete ones. But…I don't know - I just feel like I'm dumping Edward to be with Garrett. But, as always, that little voice inside my head reminds me that he has a fiancé to call if he wants attention. It's not up to me to keep him happy, even if I want to.

Smiling at Garrett, I nod. "Okay."

"I thought we could have dinner on the beach?" suggests Garrett, holding up a paper-wrapped package and two bottles of soda.

We stroll down to the beach and sit side by side on the sand, eating greasy takeout and watching the last of the surfers ride in.

Garrett tosses a handful of fries to the noisy seagulls flapping and squabbling beside us. "Sorry if I spoiled your dinner plans."

"It's fine. It's not like we had anything big planned."

"I guess. Edward just seemed kinda bummed."

I'm not sure how to reply, so I don't. I turn away to watch the last bits of sun disappear. It's wrong for me to feel a twinge of happiness at Garrett's statement. I don't want Edward to be bummed, but for some reason, knowing that my decision had that effect on him, kind of makes me happy. I hate myself for it.

Dusting the salt from my fingers, I turn, and, ignoring Garrett's startled expression, lean in to kiss him. It only takes a heartbeat for him to respond, and before I know it, he's pulled me atop his lap, my knees digging into the warm sand at his hips. He tastes like salt and orange soda, and we kiss until there are no thoughts of Edward in my head…until there's sand in my hair and in my shoes…until my lips are sore and my underwear is damp.

He looks up at me, dark eyes under dark, heavy brows, and a slight grin on his lips. "I've been thinking about you since the party."

"Yeah?" I pant, trying not to grind against him too much. We are, after all, on a public beach.

He nods, his fingers gripping my hips tighter as he kisses me softly; my lips, my chin, my neck. He kisses me until I'm writhing in his hands.

Spinning and giddy from our kisses, Garrett leads me back to his car, his hands never leaving me. Emboldened by an empty parking lot, we fall into his backseat where we proceed to make out like teenagers; cramped, awkward and so, so sweet. He makes me shudder and moan with his hands and his fingers. I happily return the favor, and afterwards he drives me back to my apartment, smiling lazily the whole way there.

The lights are off and everything is silent when I get home. I stop briefly outside Edward's door, listening for movement, but hearing none. I consider seeing if he's awake, but decide not to ruin my post-orgasmic high with the guilt that threatens me from the other side of the door.

Guilt that I neither deserve, nor have the right to feel.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 23 - Seattle**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"Bella! We were supposed to be on the road fifteen minutes ago!"

I wrestle the coral-colored pump onto my foot and compare it to the black one on the other foot.

"Bella!"

"Okay, Edward. Wait a fucking minute!"

Frustrated, I rip the black shoe off, toss it into the abyss of my wardrobe, and grab the other coral one from its box. Teetering out to a waiting Edward, I find him tossing his car keys from hand to hand as I try to walk and put my shoe on at the same time.

"Sorry! I'm done. Just let me grab my lipstick…"

He throws his hands up in frustration. "No!" Grabbing me by the hand, he pulls me towards the front door. "We have to be in the city in half an hour, and it's a forty-five minute trip!"

"But I need my…"

Tugging me out into the hallway, Edward closes the apartment door. "You don't need it. Let's go!"

Pouting, I follow him into the elevator.

"You look very nice, by the way," he says, glancing sideways at me.

Neatening my skirt, I smile wryly at him. "Thank you."

I gesture for him to face me, and he does, my fingers finding his wonky collar. The pale blue shirt is the perfect colour for him, the cut made for his shape.

"Thank you," he says as I smooth his collar out.

We make pretty good time; the traffic is not too heavy and Edward drives like a fucking maniac. But as crazy as Edward is on the roads, his driving isn't the reason for the butterflies in my stomach. It's been too long since I've seen Rosalie, and I feel like I might actually burst into tears the moment I see her. We've spoken on the phone almost every week and texted a million times a day - but it's just not the same. The last few months without her, as great as they have been, have felt like forever. Plus, I'm excited for Edward to meet her and vice versa. It'll be nice for her to be able to put a face to the person she hears so much about.

We're only a little late, but I don't even need to search for her. As we walk in the door, she stands from her chair so quickly that it falls over with a bang. Accidentally smacking people in the back of the head with my bag, I squeeze through the crowded restaurant, making my way towards Emmett and Rose.

"Hey, girl," she whispers as we hug for what feels like forever. She smells like her vanilla and coconut body wash, and the scent hits me like a punch in the gut, making my eyes well up.

"I've missed you so much," I reply.

Emmett gives me a swift peck on the cheek, and I introduce them both to Edward. I can see Rose sizing him up, her eyes taking him in head to toe. We take a seat and Edward offers to buy a round of drinks, before he and Emmett hit the bar, leaving Rose and I alone for a few moments.

"Holy bitch of tits, Bella. You've got your work cut out for you," she says, pointing to Edward with the finger that's not wrapped around her wine glass.

I groan. "Tell me about it."

She gives me a sympathetic look. "That bad?"

Watching Edward at the bar; smiling, laughing, looking so at ease, I nod. "Yeah, it's bad."

* * *

Emmett takes an instant shine to Edward and, after he excuses himself to use the bathroom, Emmett gushes like a teenage girl.

"That guy is funny!" he says, slapping a hand against the table.

"Jesus, Emmett, why don't you just marry the guy?" teases Rose.

Emmett makes a face. "He's already engaged. Otherwise, I would."

Rose looks at me out of the corner of her eye, but I hide my grimace behind a glass of wine.

_You and me both, Emmett._

* * *

The waiters are clearing the tablecloths when we finally decide it's time to leave. Still, we stand on the sidewalk outside for half an hour, trying to delay the inevitable.

"You know, you haven't mentioned Garrett all night," says Rose as she pulls her jacket on.

I tug Edward's jacket tighter around me. "I guess not."

"And? You gonna tell me what's going on?"

I shrug, burying my hands in the coat pockets. "I don't know. He's a nice guy; so attentive and sweet, and God, so pretty…"

"But?"

"It's just not like that with me and Garrett."

"I'm sure if it was meant to be a big, epic romance you'd know, right?"

"Right! It is what it is; easy, and totally string-free."

"Does _he_ know this?"

My teeth worry my bottom lip as I think back to my last conversation with Garrett. He was on his way out to a bar with some friends, and had already polished off a few drinks. He didn't ask me to join him, and I didn't ask to go. There were no promises of another date, just comfortable conversation.

"Yeah, I think he does. He's pretty chill like that."

Rose sighs, watching Emmett and Edward a few feet away, a gentle smile on her face. "I'm happy you're happy, B," she says, looking back at me, her smile widening.

Throwing my arms around her, I bury my face into her soft blonde hair. "I am," I whisper as she squeezes me tighter.

"Just don't wait around for him, okay?" she adds quietly, and I miss her again already.

Edward pretends not to notice when a few tears escape on the ride home. Instead, he puts some Radiohead on the CD player and winds the windows down, letting the cool night air in. I snuggle down into his jacket, the smell of his soap and aftershave lulling me into a light sleep.

I almost don't notice when warm fingers push my windblown hair behind my ear, lingering softly on my cheek.

Almost.

* * *

_Meg and Tiff made this chapter perfect in every way. Thank you, ladies._

_And thank you to you. For reading, and for reviewing. xx_


	13. Chapter 13

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 17 - Italy**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

I should have known the day was fated to be a disaster the moment I spilt toothpaste on my brand new black blouse. From the second I stepped foot outside the front door, the day was a complete and utter shit storm.

First, a delivery arrived in the morning with an entire box of stock missing. _An entire box_. Thousands of dollars worth of stock – missing. The delivery man said there were only four boxes on board the truck, but the invoice clearly stated there should have been five. To rectify the situation, I spent the entire morning on the phone to the head office and warehouse, trying to figure out where our lost box was.

Then, after lunch, Demitri caught a woman stuffing an eleven-hundred dollar, hand-made, Italian leather tote bag into her stroller. She claimed it was hers and that she bought it at the department store across town. Of course, she didn't know that nowhere outside of Babineaux stocks Babineaux - unless it's a cheap knock-off, which it wasn't. So, she made a scene, upending displays and pulling garments from the racks until she was escorted from the store. I spent an inordinate amount of time writing police reports and on the phone to the head office _again_.

Needless to say, after a second call to management in one day, my afternoon was "brightened" by a phone call all the way from New York, from none other than the head honcho herself, Ms. Marcelline Bouchard. She proceeded to ramble incessantly at me, in broken English, for over an hour, calling me _"Eee-zabell"_ the entire time.

So, all of this compacted into ten short hours, has made for one epically crappy work day. And to make matters worse, when I arrive home later than usual, hoping to find Edward with a pizza at the very least – I find nothing.

Not a pizza, not a hamburger, not a fucking cracker. Nothing.

Sighing in frustration, I dump my bag and shoes at the front door and go in search of something quick and vaguely nutritional.

The apartment is quiet, the only light coming from the TV, although Edward is clearly not in front of it. I flick it off and turn some lamps on, casting a warm glow over the living and dining area.

"Fucking Edward…no fucking food…I'm fucking hungry...Stupid Marchelline, bitch," I mumble, yanking the fridge open.

"Oh, thank you sweet Jesus," I sing, clasping my hands together in front of me as I spy a left over slice of spinach pie.

A soft murmur from the balcony draws my attention from the fridge, and on closer inspection, I find Edward; in the dark, on the balcony, on his phone.

My stomach drops, and I immediately feel bad for being pissy.

The light inside the apartment casts a light glow over his back as he sits hunched over in a chair, his phone to his ear, and his head in his hands.

I'm not sure what's going on with him and Sam, but from the foul mood he's been in all week – I'm guessing it's not good.

The last time I spoke to him about her, he mentioned that she was still pushing him to move. She's found a school he can teach at, even an apartment they can rent. But Edward is still against the idea. Which, to be honest, I can understand. From what I can see, Edward has a great support network here; a great family, great friends and a job he loves. Sam has all those things here too, why she would want to uproot all that and move to Russia, the other side of the world, is beyond me. But I bite my tongue and give Edward nothing but reassurance and an open ear.

I'm not surprised it's all coming to a head, but it's still upsetting to see Edward hurting.

"Not a big deal?" he yells, his voice muffled. "How can you say that?"

Leaving him alone to work his shit out, I stand in the kitchen scarfing down my pie, trying my hardest not to listen.

Even when I finish, he's still out there, this time pacing up and down, tugging at his hair. I consider letting him know I'm home, but figure he'll work it out when he comes inside.

The weight of my craptastic day comes crashing down as I strip off my work clothes and throw my pajamas on. I'm in the bathroom, taking off my makeup when I hear the sliding door from the balcony shut quietly. With smudged eye make-up and a face wipe in hand, I tiptoe out to find Edward standing in the middle of the living room, staring at his phone.

"Edward?"

His head snaps up and even in the dark I can see the disbelief and pain in his eyes.

"Everything okay?" I ask tentatively, even though it's quite clear that everything is most certainly not okay.

His mouth opens and closes, like his lips can't bear to shape the words he knows in his head.

"She took a job in Italy. With LaScala."

_What the?_

"Italy?" I move forward, but not too close, giving him some space.

He nods, his eyes vacant. "She didn't even talk to me about it…didn't…didn't tell me anything. She just took it."

"I thought she was coming home in a month?"

He shrugs slowly, looking completely defeated. "The job in Italy is another six-month stint. She won't be back until next year."

"Oh my God, Edward. What are you going to do?"

I'm torn between feeling sorry for Edward, and being angry. Because, I mean, what the _actual fuck?_ Who is this girl, and what is her fucking deal? Selfish much?

His words start blurring into one as it all becomes too much. "What can I do? There's nothing I can do. She took the job; she's leaving for Italy next week…"

I can't help it - my hand reaches out, resting lightly on his forearm. "Oh, Edward…"

"We broke up."

* * *

_Try not to get too excited. _

_Okay, maybe do._

_Tiff and Meg worked their magic behind the scenes to make this perfect. Thank you. _


	14. Chapter 14

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 19 - Movie Theatre**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"_Bella, it's Garrett. Just calling to see if you're free tonight? Thought we could catch a movie or something? Anyway, call me back, girl."_

I stand outside my apartment, looking down at the screen on my phone. It's the first time I've heard from Garrett for a few weeks, and, although it would be nice to see him, I just can't bring myself to call him back. I know he doesn't expect anything from me; we both made it clear we weren't after anything deep and meaningful, but I still feel bad for blowing him off.

But when I open the front door, I see the reason I won't be calling Garrett back.

Edward is sprawled out on the sofa in nothing but a worn out pair of sweats and some socks. One hand flips the channels on the remote, while the other is tucked under the waistband of his pants. Even heartbroken, he's still the most ridiculously good looking guy ever. And I am quite possibly the most shallow, vapid, whore in the world.

"Hey," I call, opening the blinds to let some sunshine in.

Edward grunts in response, squinting his eyes.

"No work today?" I ask; my eyes widening as I take in the kitchen. Empty cans of Diet Coke and empty boxes of Hot Pockets are strewn all over the countertops, crumbs and shit everywhere.

"Took the day off," he grunts, resuming his channel flicking.

"Uh-huh."

It's only been three days since he dropped the bombshell, but since then he hasn't left the apartment. He spent the whole first day in his bedroom, blasting Yo La Tengo at full volume. Even if I wasn't a little blue about the whole thing, _'Tears Are In Your Eyes'_ on repeat will make anyone depressed.

Dusting the crumbs from the sofa, I slide in next to him, watching him flick back and forth between _Ren and Stimpy_ and _Robot Chicken_.

"How are you doing?" I ask, nudging his leg with my knee.

He shrugs. "Fine."

His jaw flexes, and a week's worth of light brown, almost red, stubble bristles. I stare at the side of his face, waiting for him to talk to me.

His eyes slide to the side, and his brows furrow. "What?"

"You know...," I say, poking his arm gently. "If you need to talk about it to someone, I could be that someone that you talk…about it…to."

"That makes no sense."

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean."

My words have no effect; he just continues to stare at the TV screen vacantly. When he lifts the remote to change the channel again, I snatch it out of his hand and toss it across the apartment where it lands with a thud.

"What the fuck?"

"Talk to me."

"Why? I'm fine!"

I give him my best _'bitch, please'_ face. "You think I don't know you, Edward? You are _not_ fine."

He stares at the TV screen for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Finally, he sighs deeply and turns to face me.

"Truthfully?" he asks, and I nod. "Truthfully, I feel like shit."

"Well, that's normal…"

"No!" he argues. "I feel like shit because I _don't_ feel like shit."

"You what now?"

Edward runs his hands through his hair. "I mean, I don't feel as bad as I should. And in turn, that makes me feel like shit."

"Oh," is all I can say in response. Eloquent, right?

"I guess maybe I've known this was coming for a while."

His revelation takes me by surprise. I'd always been under the impression that even though they were having problems, Edward and Sam were happy.

"I suppose it doesn't make it hurt any less though."

"No, it doesn't." He leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees. "But, I'm not sure I'm hurting for the right reasons."

"You've lost me again."

"I mean _our_ life was _my_ life, you know? All of my friends were _our_ friends. We've been Edward and Sam, Sam and Edward, for so long, I don't think I know how to just be Edward."

My hand hovers over his bare back, but I'm not sure that it's appropriate for me to me touching him like that, so I tuck it under my leg instead.

"This whole life I've built around my relationship with Sam is gone. What if I don't know how to be me without her?"

I want nothing more than to make him feel better, but I also know there's nothing I can say that will help. Plus, telling him that he's better off without that selfish cow is not the way to make someone feel better.

"Well, if it helps, I don't know Sam and Edward. I just know Edward."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know the Edward who's a great teacher, the Edward who has an amazing family who love you for _you_, not for who you're with. And the Edward who has fucking awesome hot friends, who will still be your friends no matter what."

He drops his head into his hands. "I guess."

"To be honest…" I stop, taking a moment to think if I really want to say the next words. "To be honest, I don't think you've been Sam and Edward for a while, and I think you know it."

Rolling his head to the side, his green eyes meet mine. I can see him thinking about what I said; I can see him realizing that I'm right. He flops back onto the sofa, looking even more frustrated and grumpy.

Time for a change of tactics. Time to bring out the big guns.

"You wanna watch _Flight of the Conchords,_ and sing along to all the songs?"

He shrugs, but doesn't make a fuss when I put the DVD in and make him some dinner.

I'm just a good friend helping another friend through a tough time, right?

So why does my heart keep holding onto that flicker of hope?

* * *

_Tiff and Meg put the commas and semi colons in the right place - among other things._

_Just a hint; DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT YouTube 'Tears Are In Your Eyes' if you're feeling even the slightest bit weepy. Bad idea. _

_Thank you for reading, and for reviewing. _

_x Wink_


	15. Chapter 15

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 14 - Hospital  
Pen Name: MissWinkles  
Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward  
Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:  
thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

_"Friday, Friday, gotta eat pizza on Friday…_Edward!"

One shoe lands near the sofa, and the other near the kitchen, as I kick them off, pizza and garlic bread in my hands. It's Friday; I had a good day, I have the entire weekend off, and I am in a good mood.

"Oh, Edward!" I call, knowing very well he won't answer me. "I've got pizza!"

As predicted, silence greets me, so I shove dinner into the oven and stomp into his bedroom, throwing the door open. I flick his bedroom light on and off rapidly, pounding on the wall beside the doorway.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

"Fuck off!" he moans, covering his head with his sheets.

It's been three weeks since Edward and Sam broke up and, to be honest, I'm getting sick of living with a mopey, emo, bastard. I've been patient and helpful, letting him have his space. But to be honest, I'm not even sure if he's even grieving for a lost relationship anymore. I think he's just upset that his well-planned life has been thrown into chaos. And I get it, it sucks. But he's a shotgun and rocking chair away from being a grumpy old man. Every day has been the same; he gets up and goes to work, he comes home, he eats, he goes back to bed. It's tragic is what it is, and I've had enough.

"Nope! Get up. I brought dinner."

"I'm not hungry," he spits. "And you can't just barge into a guy's bedroom you know. What if I was…I don't know…masturbating or something?"

I tug the covers from the end of the bed, pulling harder as he grips them and tries to pull them back. "What are you sixteen? Masturbate in the shower like everyone else."

He lets go of the sheets and I almost fall in a heap as they slide off him and onto the floor. He's curled into a ball on the bed, in nothing but his Spongebob boxer shorts. Huffing, I pick up his phone from the nightstand and pretend to start dialing numbers as I perch myself on the side of his bed.

"Who are you calling?" he asks; one eye open and glaring at me.

"An ambulance."

"What?" he rasps, sitting up a little. "Why?"

"Obviously you need medical attention," I say, gesturing to his prone body. He tries to grab the phone, but I stand up again, holding it out of his reach. "Seriously, it's a Friday night and you're moping in bed like a loser. You must be sick."

"Sick of you," he mumbles, covering his head with a pillow.

I roll my eyes, tossing the phone on the bed before sitting beside him again. "You can't get sick of me, I'm perfect."

He mumbles something in response, but his head is still stuffed under the pillow.

"Come on," I push, tapping him on the butt twice. He yelps and wriggles out of my reach. "They're playing _The Karate Kid_ at the moonlight cinema tonight."

He doesn't reply, but after a moment, pulls his head out from under the pillow and flips onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, he huffs. "The original or the remake?"

He tries to look disinterested as I cock my head to the side. "Would I get you out of bed for the remake?" He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "We're talking the 1984 original, wax-on wax-off, best of all time, version."

Sitting up, Edward rubs his hand over his eyes. "Can I wear my sweats?"

"You can rock a pair of rain boots and a g-string for all I care."

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth, though he tries to disguise it. "Can I eat ice cream out of the tub?"

I toss a pillow at him, which he dodges. "Who are you, Bridget Jones?"

He picks the pillow back up and I reel backwards as it thwacks me in the side of the head.

"Asshole," I spit, fixing my hair.

Chuckling quietly under his breath, he stands up and starts looking through random piles of clothes for his sweats. I watch as he rifles through his drawers, slightly mesmerized by the shifting muscles in his back. I swear, if I'd been living on Hot Pockets and Chinese food for two weeks, I would be the size of a fucking house. But Edward? No. If anything, he's lost weight, making the sharp cut of his lower abs even more defined.

"Are you going to leave, or should I just drop trou in front of you?" he asks, his fingers hooked under the elastic of his boxers.

"Uh – yeah," I stammer, standing up and backing out of his room as he smirks at me. "But you've got five minutes or I'm coming back here with a blow torch and disinfectant for those sheets."

When I look up, he's smiling. It feels like it's been forever since I've truly seen him smile, and the sight of it makes my chest feel like it's going to burst.

He rattles around his room while I go to my own to change. I'm in my underwear, sans bra, rooting around looking for my favorite skinny jeans when my door bursts open and Edward barges in.

"Are you…WHOA!"

"Oh my fucking God!" I scream, covering my boobs with my hands. I can hear him laughing on the other side of the door. "I can't believe you didn't knock!" I yell, throwing the door open, clutching a t-shirt to my chest.

He can barely talk through his laughter, holding his hands up in a gesture of apology.

I'm trying my hardest to be angry, but it's just so good to see Edward happy.

"You're a dick," I spit through a smile, closing the door again.

His laughter quiets as he moves into the living area. Geez, if I'd known my boobs would make him that happy, I would have flashed him weeks ago.

* * *

_Just a reminder: these chapters, whilst linear in time, are days, sometimes weeks apart. I don't write angst, and figured no one wants to see three chapters of mopeyWard. Onward!_

_Meg and Tiff make me better, and make these chapters shine. _

_xx Wink_


	16. Chapter 16

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 13 - High School**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

The bus smells like stale armpits and wet dog. I don't know why, but it does. I pull the cooler against my chest, my arms wrapped around it tightly as a woman walks a stroller down the aisle, whacking me with it as she passes.

I'm so busy rubbing my knees that I almost miss my stop.

Even though it's the end of spring and the mornings hold a chill to them, the afternoons are still sunny and warm. The leaves in the park are beginning to change colour; splashes of brown and red dapple the huge trees that line the sidewalks. My phone buzzes with a text and, after juggling the cooler bag and various other items, I fish it out of my bra.

_**Class ran late. See you in five. : ) - E**_

It's nearly lunch time on a Thursday and my first mid-week day off since I started at the new store. St. Andrew's Elementary looks out of place sitting among skyscrapers and up market high-rise apartments.

I find Edward already sitting under a tree when I arrive. As I approach, he stands, brushing the grass from his pants. When he spies lunch in my arms, he pounces, and I have to keep swatting his hands out of the way as I try to unload it from the bag. He's only content when I appease him with a little slice of frittata to keep him occupied.

The grass is cool and dry; the shade from the trees above providing cover from the afternoon sun. Edward sits with his back against a tree, me, cross-legged beside him. We devour every last bit of food I brought: the dried figs, the cheese, the biscuits - everything.

Seeing Edward happy again feels like the sun after a long winter. It's warm and comforting, seeping under my skin, into my heartbeat. I try to do what I can to keep him happy, but the line that's always been a little fuzzy between us, now seems to be almost non-existent. But I don't want to be the rebound chick, and I don't want to be the girl who goes in for the kill after a breakup either.

From where we're sitting we can see the school grounds; see the kids running around the equipment, hanging from the monkey bars. Edward points out some of the kids in his class, telling me all about them.

"See the tall, dark-haired boy standing on top of the slide?" I nod. "That's Marcus. That guy will be in politics one day, I swear. He's so good with his words and he's got all the female teachers eating out of his hand." He laughs quietly, sitting up so that we're side by side. "And the girl with the red floppy hat - that's Jayne. I caught her eating glue the other day."

"What? Like a glue stick?"

"Nope. The gooey paste stuff."

"Ew. Why?"

Edward shrugs. "She wanted to know what it tasted like. Apparently it tasted okay too; she got through half the container before I found her."

I can't deny that having him so physically close still makes the hair on my arms stand on end and my pulse race. But we've come so far, forged such a close bond as friends, that the thought of ruining that scares me even more.

"Do any of the girls have a crush on you?" I ask, packing away some of the containers. "I bet you have your hands full with all the mommies."

Edward makes a shy face, ripping out a chunk of grass as he looks over at the playground. "See the girl hanging on the monkey bars?"

"Which one?"

Edward leans closer, his face right next to mine; so close I can feel the heat from his skin on mine. "The one with her dress over her head."

I swallow. "Uh-huh."

Leaning away slightly, he smiles, looking embarrassed. "She told her Mom that she and I were getting married and having babies."

Looking out over the playground again, I imagine a tiny little pigtailed girl with hearts for eyes as she moons over the dashing Mr. Cullen.

"The parent-teacher meeting was uncomfortable at best."

"I'll say."

We sit silently for a while, enjoying the breeze through the trees and full stomachs.

Out of nowhere, Edward turns to me, looking thoughtful. "You want kids some day?"

I shrug, nodding at the same time. "I guess. I mean, not right now, but one day."

Edward stretches his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. "Yeah, me too."

"I think it's cool that you get to create this entire human life." I catch Edward nod from my peripheral vision and continue. "And not just ten toes and fingers, but…" I pause, trying to turn my jumbled thoughts into words. "A person, you know? A soul. I guess I love the idea that I can shape and mold this little person into someone special. Like, this tiny thing that I've helped to create, who can be anyone, and...fuck - I'm rambling." I pull a blade of grass out, watching it flutter to the ground, blown about by the breeze.

Edward is quiet beside me, and when I turn to look at him, my heart almost stops beating in my chest. His eyes are locked on mine, and I've never felt so vulnerable and scared in my entire life. It's like he can see right down into the most secret parts of me, the parts I barely know exist. The weight of his eyes is too much, and I turn my head, looking down at the grass.

We're both silent until the school bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Laden with the cooler, Edward helps me to my feet, picking some stray pieces of grass from my hair.

Still reeling, and slightly wobbly on my feet, I watch as Edward makes his way back across the street.

I am officially swooning, and scared shitless.

* * *

_Hello again! Tiff and Meg are my beta-extraordinaires. Wonderful they are. _

_Thank you to you for reading, and for the alerts and reviews. xx_


	17. Chapter 17

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 15 - Island**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

**Random Author's Note: I listened to Charles Bradley's **_**Lovin' You, Baby**_** on repeat to get in the mood whilst writing this chapter. YouTube it if you're so inclined ;)**

* * *

Halkes has always been one of my favorite parts of the city. With its quirky second-hand clothes shops and alternative music stores, it has a really cool, laid-back vibe without being too hipster or pretentious. So, when Edward suggests dropping by a party there, I readily agree.

Eli and Heidi have decided to pack up their life in the US, and move to a remote island off the coast of Indonesia where they'll teach English. It sounds so insane and awesome; I'm instantly jealous.

His hand on my lower back, Edward guides me through the crowded living room towards the kitchen.

"Bella and Edward are in the hiz-ouse!" yells Jake over the crowded room.

Since this is the first time Edward has been out and about since he and Sam broke up, I worry that turning up with me on his arm would be weird. Not that I'm his date, because I'm not. At least I don't think I am.

Anyway, he assures me it's fine; flashing that cheeky smile of his, and throwing an arm over my shoulder. "Let them talk," he says.

And he's right. His friends are cool people. Some of them I met at our housewarming, others at some parties we've been to since. Everyone's happy to see me, and even happier to see Edward. He's like the prodigal son returning home.

Jake nudges me with his shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows. "So?"

"So?" I echo, taking a gulp of beer.

He laughs, and some of the other guys surrounding us join in.

"What?"

Jake shakes his head, smiling. "Nothin'"

I narrow my eyes at him, and the group around me. "What?"

Shrugging, he says, "Aw, nothin'. Just wondering if you and Edward have…you know," his eyebrows wiggle again, "sealed the deal."

My beer almost sprays out of my mouth. "Have we _what?"_

"Oh come on," teases Colin. "You two have been making goo-goo eyes at each other for weeks. You can't tell me he's not banging the shit outta you."

My mouth drops open, and I choke back laughter. "Edward is most certainly not _banging the shit outta me_, thank you, Colin."

Colin makes a face, digging into his pockets as Brady, his twin brother, fist pumps beside him. I'm not sure what's going on until Colin passes Brady a twenty-dollar bill, which Brady takes with a shit-eating grin.

"You took bets?" I accuse, pointing at them with my bottle.

Jake laughs, throwing a huge arm over my shoulder and pulling me close. "Aw, Bella. Don't get your panties in a twist. We're all just happy to see Edward out and about again."

"What do you mean?"

Brady makes a face. "Sam had that boy so fuckin' pussy whipped, she…" He stops suddenly as he sees Edward approaching.

Edward's got his tipsy face on; his eyes are glassy and his cheeks are tinted pink.

My skin warms as his arm finds its way around my waist, and I try desperately not to think about how well I fit into the shape of his side.

"Come meet some people," he says quietly, tugging me away from Jake and the boys, who all give me goofy grins and make sexual gestures as I walk away.

Edward moves around the room with me under his arm, introducing me to more of his friends. Not once does anyone glance at his arm around me. They all just smile and laugh like it's the most natural thing in the world. Heidi waves us over and introduces us to another couple. To be honest, I couldn't for the life of me tell you what their names are. The moment she says the words, "This is Edward and Bella," I lose all train of thought.

Edward and Bella.

Bella and Edward.

And I know Edward catches it too, because for just a second - a heartbeat - his arm tightens around my waist.

Are we Edward and Bella? When did this happen and where was I? Why do I feel like everybody knows something I don't?

Later on, mid-conversation with Heidi, I realize suddenly that Edward has disappeared. Excusing myself, I go in search of him, finding him in the kitchen rummaging through the cupboards.

"Tequila?" I ask, spotting the bottle on the bench. "What's happened now?"

Shaking his head, Edward passes me a lemon wedge. "No. Tonight is about celebrating. Plus, it's all they have."

I crinkle my nose and lick the back of my hand before Edward tips some salt on.

"What are we celebrating? What should we toast to?"

Edward thinks for a moment, before bringing his shiny-glazed eyes back to mine. Holding his shot glass up in the air, he touches it to mine gently.

"To Edward and Bella."

I smile so hard that the apples of my cheeks ache. "To Bella and Edward."

We watch each other as we lick the salt from our hands, throw back the shot, and try not to make faces as we eat the lemon.

There are moments that you remember days, weeks, even years later. Moments that still turn your insides to mush and make your heart skip a beat. Something so simple like the taste of tequila, or the chorus of a certain song, can trigger a memory so perfectly that it feels like you're right there again.

This is one of those moments.

My breath catches in my throat as, suddenly, Edward closes the gap between us. The noise from the party drifts away and all I can think about is the feeling of his lips on mine, the warmth of his hand as it cups my cheek gently, the taste of salt on his lips.

I feel stupid for thinking that this wasn't what I wanted. The moment he kisses me, I know this is what I want more than anything. I want him, I want us - I want it all.

* * *

_Tiff and Meg are amazing and I luff them like tequila and lemon._

_I've been listening to this song too much! I'm all loved-up and starry eyed. Everyone gets a hug! _

_Thank you for your lovely comments, and for reading xx_

_(Big thanks to anniej13 for keeping me entertained with her reviews today. And to Denverpopcorn for recc'ing me over on Twitter. 3)_


	18. Chapter 18

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 10 - Garage**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"I can't believe I didn't know about this!"

"That's why it's called a _secret_ show."

Edward grins at me from behind the wheel as he navigates the outer suburbs, driving us deeper into what looks like an industrial area; warehouses, mechanic shops and storage sheds everywhere.

I don't know how he secured the tickets; he's being very evasive. "A friend of a friend", he says. But really, I don't care. Tickets to an intimate, spur of the moment, secret concert by one of our favorite bands, are not something you say no to.

Half an hour later, Edward and I are standing in the middle of what looks like an old mechanic's garage. Oil stains the cement flooring, and the faint smell of grease and diesel fuel permeates the air. Already a decent sized crowd has started to form; people are milling around, everyone looking not quite one-hundred percent sure if this is the place to be.

"Want to hear something cool and vaguely embarrassing?"

He looks so cute in his knitted cap, a grey hood pulled up and over it –keeping his ears warm, apparently.

"I love vaguely embarrassing!" I push my hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, where he links his fingers with mine.

"I _might_ have a 'Bella' playlist on my iPod, and these guys _might_ have one of their songs on said playlist."

I think my ears move I smile so wide. "You have a Bella playlist? What's on it?"

"Stuff. Some Bloc Party, a little Black Keys, you know, the usual."

"So which song should I listen out for?"

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, smirking. "You'll have to guess."

My mind spins through the tracks listings of the band's last two albums. He just watches, his fingers rubbing circles into my palms.

It's been an easy ride with us since the party. The move from "just friends" to "more than friends" seems to have been seamless. One of the main reasons for our easy transition is that not a lot has actually changed. To be honest, we were basically a couple without the perks beforehand. The only difference now is I get the perks!

Well – most of the perks anyway.

It seems to be an unspoken deal between us to take it slowly. Edward is not long out of an engagement and, while he assures me that I'm not a rebound, I don't want to rush into things and have my heart broken.

But, there are two huge flaws with our deal. One: even though we're taking things slow, I can already feel myself falling fast and hard. I'm trying to keep myself from diving in head-first, but it's proving to be difficult. The second, and probably most glaringly obvious flaw in our plan, is that taking it slow means no sexy-times for Edward and Bella. Groping on the sofa? Sure. Making out in the kitchen? Absolutely! Anything that involves actual physical sexual contact? Hell no.

And it is _killing_ me. I've spent more on batteries in the last month than I have in my entire life.

I'm still thinking about which song he's chosen, when, smiling that half-smile of his, Edward leans down to kiss me, and…the lights go out. Literally – the entire garage is suddenly so dark I can't see an inch in front of my face. The whole crowd goes silent as an air of anticipation begins to bubble around us. My fingers tighten in the material of Edward's hoodie, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist, his hand on my butt. Rumblings of excitement course through the crowd, whispers and hushed voices building around us.

"You good?" asks Edward, missing my ear and whispering into my hair. His breath on my neck makes me shiver, waves of goosebumps rolling over my skin. I'm about to reply, when there's a sudden burst of light and music behind me, and the garage erupts as the band blasts out the first notes of their song. Goosebumps of another kind wash over my body as the music kicks in, people around us breaking into dance, singing and clapping. Edward moves behind me, not so much dancing, but rather bouncing to the beat - even on my tiptoes, he can still see over the top of my head.

By the middle of the set, I can't contain my excitement any longer. The music is so loud, the bass so low, that my chest rumbles and my throat vibrates with every beat. The lights are bright, dancing over the crowd, flashing in time with the music. My feet just won't stay still; my arms won't stay by my side, as the music fills me from the inside out, beating itself into every cell, crashing over me like waves of pure energy. The drum beat-beat-beats and my feet follow. With my hands in the air I spin, I twirl, I jump - I join the pulsing, dancing masses as they tumble about in perfect synchronized chaos.

An electric guitar picks out the first few bars of their last song, and as soon as I recognize it, I know it's mine. Sweaty and flushed, I turn back to Edward, who through my crazed dancing, has ended up a few feet behind me, watching amusedly. The lights pulse bright white – _flash, flash, flash_ – illuminating him as he reaches his hand out for mine through the crowd.

People continue to push and move around us as he pulls me into his arms, whispering words into my ear; words like _beautiful_, _perfect_, _amazing_. With his arms around me, my head on his chest, we listen to the last song; my song.

For the first time in weeks, I finally feel like we're there. I'm content and comfortable, and the dizzying feeling of falling doesn't scare me. I finally feel what Edward feels, what he knew even before I did – that we're going to be okay.

In fact, we're going to be more than okay; we're going to be perfect.

* * *

_Tiff and Meg are the magic betas who make me better chapter by chapter. _

_Just a side note: I kept the reference to the band pretty vague, but if you want to know who it is, and which song Edward is referring to - let me know. Also, because i'm a music nerd, I have Edward's 'Bella' playlist if you would like to know what's on it._

_Thank you again to everyone reviewing and reading xx_


	19. Chapter 19

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 1 - Airport**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"It's your third date, Bella. It's business time."

Rose is quoting _Flight of the Conchords_, and suddenly my palms are sweaty.

I watch Edward standing beside the car, one hand on the gas pump as he leans against the back door. _Fucking fuck!_ No one looks that good pumping gas. _Ever_. I get hand cramps and spill gas on my feet, and Edward looks like a demigod in a grey hoodie.

"You think?" I ask nervously.

Rose snorts. "Shyeah! If he were anyone else, I'd tell you to wait. But, you've been living with the guy for months. I'd say in the grand scheme of things, you're in at least sixth date territory. Put your fucking business socks on and get it, girl."

Swallowing hard, I wipe my hands on my jeans and sit up straight in my seat.

"I'm going to do it."

Rose cheers, howling like a wolf through the phone. "Do it!"

"I'M GOING TO DO IT!"

"Do what?" asks Edward, slipping back into the drivers seat.

Startled, a nervous giggle bursts out of my mouth. "Nothing. Nothing. Uh-okay, Rose, I'll get back to you on that."

"Climb that man like a fucking tree!" she yells.

"Oh my God, shut up!"

Rose doesn't answer, she just sings Salt n Pepa's '_Let's Talk About Sex'_ until I hang up on her.

Edward just shakes his head, smiling.

I don't know if it's the wine, or the five whole weeks of pent up sexual energy, but I'm suddenly so turned on I can barely see straight. All I can think of is him; his weight - warm and heavy on top of me, his hands and lips in all the naughty places I really want them.

It's not like we've been saints; we're both consenting adults, who have spent consensual adult time groping and dry humping on the sofa. But now, all of a sudden, it's game on. Something's gotta give, and tonight is the night.

Edward is silent as he drives, but I can see his knuckles, almost white, as he grips the steering wheel in a death grip. The tendon at the side of his jaw flexes as his eyes pass over me. Christ, he's as worked up as I am.

It's definitely not the wine.

We're both silent all the way home, but the doors of the elevator haven't even closed before Edward attacks me, pinning me to the cold, mirrored wall.

"I love this top," he says between kisses, his fingers toying with the delicate, sheer material of my shirt.

"You like it because you can see my bra."

"What can I say? I'm easily pleased."

The doors open and he pulls me by the hand, practically running for our door.

"I'll remember that for later," I reply as Edward pushes me against the front door this time.

"You got your climbing boots on?" he asks with a smirk.

"My what?"

"Your boots. Your tree climbing boots."

My face flushes what I'm sure is a brilliant shade of red. "You heard that?"

Chuckling through a sly grin, Edward rubs his thumbs over my warm cheeks. "Rose is kind of a foghorn if you haven't noticed."

My heart hammers in my chest, thundering against my ribs like a kick drum. But it's not fear that rattles me; it's plain old make-your-knees-weak-and-your-head-spin lust.

"You ready for this?" he asks. As much as I'd like him to be asking if I'm ready for him to rock my world, I know he's not. He's asking if I'm ready for things to change; because they will. This is the moment that everything will change for us and he knows it.

I nod, my fingers wrapping into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him forwards. "I'm ready."

The back of my head presses against the front door as his lips find mine. My entire body shudders as his lips leave my mouth, his fingers brushing up and under my shirt, making my knees wobble as they drift up my sides lightly. I can't find a single part of me that gives an ounce of fuck that he's groping me in the middle of the hallway, where there are most likely cameras, and most definitely nosey neighbors. Fact is, I'm too busy shamelessly rubbing myself against him to care. His thumbs graze my nipples through my bra, his mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses across the swell of my breasts as he pushes them up to meet his lips

"Inside," I moan as his teeth close lightly over my skin as he sucks.

"Right here?" he asks, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"What?"

He stops and lifts his head, his eyes finding mine. "Oh…uh, never mind. I got confused."

Pushing him away lightly, I put my hands on my hips. "Are you serious? What kind of girl do you think I am? Right here in the hallway?"

He shrugs, grinning. "I don't know. Maybe you like an audience when you climb."

He laughs as I slap him on the arm. "Smartass."

Laughing between kisses, we stumble into the apartment, almost tripping over our own feet.

"How is it that I'm hungry?" I whine, following Edward inside. "We just ate, and suddenly I feel like…oomph!" I reel backwards as my face connects with Edward's back. "What the…"

Peering around Edward, I spy a petite blonde sitting on the sofa.

"Hi, Edward," she says quietly.

Edward doesn't reply. He seems to be in shock.

"Who's this?" she asks, gesturing to me.

His eyes wide, Edward looks at me and then back to the girl.

I wave. "Uh, I'm Bella."

"Oh, Bella! I've heard so much about you," she says sweetly. _Who the fuck is this woman?_

She stands, and my heart stops as she throws her arms around Edward's neck, planting a kiss on his cheek as she nestles into his chest.

Edward just stands there, his hands limp at his sides as she pulls away, smiling.

"Bella, this is Sam."

* * *

_Tiff and Meg are my wonderful betas. _

_Remember that 1%? Consider this it._

_Thank you to JadaPattinson and BelleDean, for...I don't know...**everything**. I can't even with these two. 3 3 3_


	20. Chapter 20

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 16 - ****Italian Restaurant**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

The apartment is so quiet you could hear a mouse fart. My eyes flick back and forth between a stunned Edward and a smiling Sam.

"What are you doing here?" asks Edward, speaking for the first time in what feels like hours.

Sam beams up at him. "I wanted to come home a little early, so I caught a flight and thought I could surprise you."

He looks at her in complete disbelief, and all I can think is _what the fucking fuck_?

Why is she here?

Didn't they break up?

_Did_ they break up?

A wave of nausea rolls over me at the thought of Edward lying to me.

Like he's reading my mind, his eyes flick to mine, and I see instantly that he's as shocked at her arrival as I am. The only person who seems to be completely at ease is Sam.

"Anyway," she says, clapping her hands together. "I'm starved. I thought we could go out for dinner." She turns to face Edward, her hand on his arm; her delicate fingers, her perfectly manicured nails, wrapped around his bicep.

"You should come along," she says to me.

Edward and I begin to protest, but Sam won't hear it. She's already looking for her handbag and heading for the door while I'm still shaking my head.

Edward steps towards me, and instinctually, I step back. "I'll sort this out, I promise," he whispers.

"Sort what out? What the fuck is going on?"

"Come on!" she calls from the hallway. "Let's see if we can get a table at that Italian restaurant I like."

His eyes plead with me; beg me to go with him. My brain screams at me not to go, but my heart wants to follow. There's a sick side of me that wants to see firsthand what in God's name is going on.

* * *

Even though Edward and I have already eaten, I sit, stuffing my mouth with bread as Edward and Sam talk.

Of all the women in the entire world to be Edward's ex-girlfriend, why her?

She's quite literally perfect. Her flaxen hair is shiny and straight, hanging softly around her shoulders. Even as she rips into her bread, I can't help but marvel at her delicate hands and beautiful bone structure. Even her fucking posture is perfect.

I straighten in my chair as the waiter brings me another glass of wine.

"I'm still not sure why you're here," says Edward quietly, looking frustrated.

Sam cocks her head to the side. "What do you mean? I came home to see you."

The bread in my mouth turns to mush as I swallow a huge gulp of wine. It's the only thing I can do to stop myself from screaming _WHAT THE FUCK?_

"You remember we broke up, right?" asks Edward, his eyes on me as I polish off my second glass as I signal the waiter for the third.

Sam giggles. "Don't be silly. We had an argument, Edward."

_Oh, God._ I can feel this going downhill fast.

"Ecshush me," I mumble around a mouthful of bread. The chair scrapes across the floor loudly as I push it out, the glasses on the table rattling and clinking as my knee hits the leg as I stand up.

In the women's bathroom I splash a handful of cold water on my face. I can feel my heart beating in my throat and my head swimming. In that moment, I'm struck by home much I miss Rose. I need her guidance, I need a shoulder - I need someone to tell me what to do. Fishing my phone from my bag, my finger hesitates over the call button.

I need to talk to Edward first.

I push the bathroom door open, and in a moment of serendipity, it almost hits Edward in the face.

"Bella," he breathes, reaching for my hand. "Please, you have to believe me, I don't know what she's talking about."

"Why don't you just tell her that you guys are broken up?" I ask, frantic, snatching my hand out of his. "I don't understand what we're even doing here. I thought you broke up? Why doesn't she understand that?"

He lets go of me, his hands finding his hair. "I don't know. She just turned up like nothing's happened. I don't know what to do."

"Just tell her the truth!"

"I will," he says quietly, reaching for my face, his hands on either side of my neck. "I just…it's not that easy. I….I don't want to hurt her, Bella."

The noise inside my head stops. Hands shaking, I step back, out of his reach. "You don't want to hurt her? What about me?"

Frowning, Edward sighs heavily. "Bella…"

"No! Her coming back…it's all screwy and messy. I don't want screwy and messy, Edward. I want smooth and easy, and you - just _you_. But…you have to want me too."

"I do, Bella. Please..."

"You're breaking my heart because you don't have the balls to tell your ex-girlfriend the truth."

I wait for him to deny it. I wait, and he says nothing.

My chest tightens and my vision blurs as tears gather at the corners of my eyes.

I won't cry here, I won't cause a scene.

I almost make it through the restaurant before the tears start. Making a left outside, I walk towards our apartment, tears silently rolling down my cheeks.

About ten minutes from home, I realize that for the first time in months, it's not where I want to be.

Her phone rings three times before a sleepy Rose answers.

"What's wrong?"

I can't even answer. The sound of her voice opens the floodgates and I can't control the sobbing.

"Where are you? Are you hurt? Bella, talk to me."

"It's E-Edward. He…he…Sam showed up, and..."

Rose curses under her breath, and I hear her shift the phone away, talking to Emmett quietly.

"Bella?"

I sniffle in response.

"Stay where you are, I'll be there soon."

* * *

_*hides*_

_Tiff and Meg are my amazing betas._

_I'm SUPER behind on updates, so, if all goes well, there will be another one, maybe two, later today. I still aim to finish on time!_

_Thank you to everyone for the reviews, and to all the lovely people I've met on Twitter!_

_x Wink_


	21. Chapter 21

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 25 - Tent**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"Thanks for putting up with my emo ass."

Rose smiles, her fingers brushing my hair over my ear. "You're just lucky you're cute."

After driving across town in her pajamas, Rose picked me up and drove me all the way back to her place. Once I stopped crying, and finished an entire tub of Chunky Monkey, she let me crash on her sofa. By the time she drove me home the next morning, I felt a little hung over, and totally stupid. To make matters worse, when I turned my phone on, I found a bunch of missed calls and texts from Edward.

"What are you going to do?" she asks, turning the heater up.

I shrug. "I don't know."

Rose takes a deep breath and the car is quiet; the sound of the windscreen wipers cutting through the silence. "I get that you're upset, Bella. But put yourself in Edward's position."

"But what…"

"Bella," she says, squeezing my hand. "If Emmett and I broke up tomorrow…"

"But you won't."

"I know we won't, it's hypothetical…"

"It's stupid."

"Can you shut up for two seconds?"

I nod sullenly.

"_If_ Emmett and I broke up, I don't think it would be easy for me to turn off my feelings for him..."

Fear bubbles in my chest, making my throat feel tight. "You think he still has feeling for Sam?"

"No…well, yes, but not in the way you think. Bella, Emmett is my best friend. Just because Edward and Sam aren't in love, doesn't mean there aren't feelings there – even if they are platonic. Did you honestly think he was going to go back to her after what she did?"

I'm trying my best to find the part of me that, not twelve hours ago, wanted to storm upstairs and rip Edward a new asshole. But Rose is right; I knew he wasn't going to hurt me, and I walked out on him when he needed me.

_I am a giant asshole._

Rose smiles. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

* * *

When I open the door to the apartment, I'm surprised to find it dark. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn. In the living area, beneath a white sheet that's been stretched across the sofa and some dining chairs, sits Edward.

"What's going on?"

Standing, he looks around nervously. "It's a tent. Well, it's supposed to be a tent."

I shift from one foot to the other, noticing the pillows and blankets under the tent. "Why?"

"You said you'd never been camping, so I figured this was the next best thing."

It's sweet…and I want to punch him in the face a little bit.

"Can you - uh, can you sit with me for a bit?"

It doesn't escape my notice that neither Sam, nor her things are here. Hope unfurls in my heart, blooming deep in my chest as Edward pats a pillow beside him, pulling me down to the floor. A string of fairy lights sag across the front of his makeshift tent, providing a tiny bit of light.

Looking at him properly for the first time, I can see he looks about as bad as I feel. His eyes are dull and heavy looking, and the thumbnail on his left hand is red and raw, a sure sign he's been chewing the ever loving fuck out of it.

"Sam's stuff is gone," I say, bringing my knees to my chest.

Edward nods. "She went back to Italy. I told her about you and me."

"And?"

"She took it pretty well actually."

I bet she did; stupid, perfect Sam.

Edward continues, talking so fast his words begin to blur into one. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I should have said something to Sam the moment she arrived I shouldn't have let you walk out and we should _never_ have gone to that stupid restaurant!"

"So…why did you?"

"I don't know!" he says, throwing his hands up in the air. "It was just all so sudden. One minute you're about to climb me in the hallway, the next my ex-fiancée is in my face acting like we never broke up. I freaked out! I was such a dick."

His hands are practically ripping his hair out and he looks so sad, so scared. I turn to him, our knees touching. "Stop," I plead, pulling his hands from his head. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I ran out last night…."

His eyes widen. "You what? No, Bella…"

"No, Edward! I feel shitty for leaving you. I should have stayed. A real girlfriend…"

His warm hand covers my mouth. "Please stop."

My face is warm and tingly when he takes his hand away, like I can feel every bit of skin he's touched.

"Can we just agree that we were both wrong?" I ask. "I feel shitty, you feel shitty; it's a whole shitty thing."

"Really? That's it?"

I nod.

"No begging or groveling? No silent treatment?"

My smile feels weird, foreign, like it might make cracks appear in my cheeks. "Oh, there'll be groveling. And breakfast in bed."

His eyes twinkle. "My bed?"

I shove him lightly. "Don't push it."

"Wait a minute, I don't remember asking you to be my girlfriend," he jokes.

I snort. "I'm sorry; did we wake up in middle school? Are you going to get Brad from English to ask me?"

He laughs loudly, his smile dazzling even in the dark. "I don't make the rules, Bella. It's just the way it goes."

"Well?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, maybe later. Ouch!" He rubs the spot between his eyebrows where I flicked him. Smirking, he lifts himself onto his knees in front of me, taking my hand in his.

"Bella Swan," he says quietly, kissing each of my fingers. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

It's stupid and corny, but it makes my heart skip a beat or two. "Sure."

He kisses the palm of my hand, grinning.

Then my wrist.

My inner arm.

My shoulder.

And finally, me.

* * *

_Meg and Tiff are my wonderful sparkly red pens. _

_Thank you for reading, and for the reviews. If I haven't replied I apologize._

_Another update to come and then we're back to our regular programming schedule._

_x Wink_


	22. Chapter 22

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 18 - Meadow**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

"This is so weird."

"It's not weird, just try it."

"What if I don't like it?"

"You'll love it, trust me."

Closing his eyes, Edward puts the peanut butter smeared pickle into his mouth, chewing slowly. After a few seconds, his eyes open and he smiles.

I clap, dipping another into the jar. "Right?"

We're still sitting on the floor of the living room, the sheet still tented above us, enjoying a camp-out. We make S'mores; holding the marshmallows over a lighter until they turned black. (Licking the sticky marshmallow fluff from our fingers turns out to be the best part.) Edward brings an oil heater for us to sit in front of since we don't have a campfire, and we wrap ourselves in blankets, pigging out on junk food.

"I'll take you real camping one day," says Edward around a mouthful of Doritos.

"Really?"

He nods, licking the orange dust from his lips. "There's a national park near my parent's house, and there's some cool camping spots there. Lots of wildflowers and tall grasses in the summer…"

"And bears?"

"Why? You scared?" he teases.

"Of ginourmous, man-eating grizzly bears? Uh – yeah."

Tossing the chips aside and pushing me onto my back, Edward lies on top of me, his whole weight crushing me. "I'll protect you."

I can barely breathe, but still I laugh as he covers my head with his arms.

"Oh my god," I wheeze. "You're so heavy. Get off!"

"No!" he says, pretending to ward off grizzly bears. "I'm protecting you from the bears!"

"There are no bears, Edward," I squeal, my face turning red as I try to catch my breath between laughing. "You're squashing my lady parts!"

With a sudden jolt, he rolls off me. "Sorry, ladies," he says, stroking my boobs lovingly.

"You okay down there stroking my lady lumps?"

Nuzzling my left boob with his cheek, he sighs. "I'm just checking to make sure they're okay."

"Uh-huh," I reply as he whispers sweet nothings to my chest.

I doubt I'll ever get tired of kissing Edward. Even lying on the hard floor, with what feels like a bag of crushed potato chips under my shoulders, it's still the best feeling in the entire world.

"Can we sleep here tonight?" I ask between kisses, and Edward nods.

After we've kissed each other silly; Edward falls asleep mid-sentence, and as hard as I try, I can't help but follow. Hours later, I wake to find Edward still fast asleep beside me, his arm wrapped around me, our feet intertwined. The glow from the fairy lights shines over half of his face, highlighting his strong, masculine profile. My fingers drift a hairsbreadth away from his skin, following the contours of his cheekbones, his brows and his perfectly un-perfect nose.

Soon though, my arm starts to go numb beneath me, and my hips begin to ache from lying on the floor. Trying not to wake Edward, I move into a more comfortable position. Only, it's not comfortable at all. Shoving a pillow under my head, I wrap a blanket over myself, throwing a leg over Edward's.

"Why are you wriggling so much?" he asks suddenly, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes still closed.

"I'm not wriggling," I reply, trying to get comfortable.

"You are," he says.

"I am not."

"You are…oh, fuck this," he snaps, sitting up and jumping to his feet.

Leaning down a little, he offers his hand to me. "Come on."

"But I thought we were sleeping here?" I say with a pout.

Sighing, he crouches down to eye level. "You wanna stay here on the floor, or do you want to come and have a sleepover in my bed?"

"A sleepover?" I squeak. My resolve is weak at best. Sleeping beside Edward; all warm and comfortable, his bits near my bits - hands, fingers, lips, all within reach – just seems like a bad idea if I'm going to try _not_ to be a hussy.

"I don't know," I say slowly as I rise off the floor.

"Why?" he asks, lacing his fingers with mine.

"Because."

"Because, why?"

We're standing in the hallway, his room to the right, mine to the left, and he will _not_ let go of my hand. Instead, he brings it to his chest, resting it lightly over his heartbeat.

"Because, if I sleepover I don't know if I'm going to be able to stop myself from molesting you in your sleep."

"Well…who says I'll resist?" he says with a smirk.

"No!" I whine, pulling my hand from his. "You're not supposed to say that. You're supposed to commend me for my brilliant resolve and let me sleep alone."

"Alone and sexually frustrated?"

"Yes!"

"Sounds awful to me."

His cockiness makes me smile. "I didn't say it was a completely flawless plan."

"Look," he says, reaching for my hand again, pulling me a few steps closer to his bedroom. "I just want you to stay the night in my bed, with me. I want your cold feet on mine, and your hair all over my face while you thrash around in your sleep."

"I don't thrash."

"Yeah, you do."

He pulls me a step closer, until I'm just inside the door. His bed looks so comfortable and inviting, and he's smiling at me, looking at me with those eyes that make me want to give him everything.

"Who are you trying to prove yourself to, Bella? It's just me."

I gnaw at the side of my cheek, feeling every last bit of my crappy resolve crumbling away.

"It's not _just_ you, Edward. It's _you_. You're _you_, and I'm trying to prove myself good enough for _you_."

He laughs. "And you think _not_ sleeping with me is the way to my heart?"

I roll my eyes.

"I don't think you understand the male psyche, Bella."

Wrapping me in his arms, Edward moves us until his legs are against the side of his bed. "Just stay with me, Bella. Whatever happens, happens."

* * *

_Meg and Tiff are my beta homegirls. _

_Thank you for reading, and for the lovely reviews._

_Next update this time tomorrow :)_

_x Wink_


	23. Chapter 23

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 3 - Bedroom**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

**_Warning_: **This chapter is 100% smut. If you're offended...hell, you should have been offended a long time ago, I don't know why you're still here!

* * *

I try to be good, I really do. I wear one of Edward's huge t-shirts to bed; I even keep my socks on. But alas, it doesn't work. Sometime in the middle of the night, while we're both fast asleep, our bodies seem to gravitate towards each other.

Like magnets, our limbs intertwine; his front to my back, his knees tucked into the back of mine. All I can feel, as I'm drifting in and out of sleep, is warm; warm skin, warm hands, warm breath on my shoulder.

When he suddenly shifts his lower body against mine, an almost whisper-soft moan rushing over my ear, I think he's dreaming. His breathing is deep and slow, and his fingers keep twitching over my stomach, leading me to believe he's still asleep.

I drift in and out of consciousness, and when I wake sometime later, I'm so turned on I'm practically whimpering. This time, when Edward pushes himself against me, his erection warm and hard against my lower back, I push right back. His breathing hitches and stutters over the back of my neck and the heat from his hand seeps through my t-shirt as he pulls my body even closer to his. Reaching behind me, my fingers find the scruff of his jaw line as his head moves slightly, his lips pressing softly to the palm of my hand.

The feel of his lips on my overheated skin sends my body in overdrive. We're close, but it's not close enough. My need for him is crushing, like I won't survive another minute if he doesn't touch me. I guide his fingers up and under my shirt; the feel of his hand on my skin makes me want to sigh, but comes out a quiet keening noise instead. Almost instantly, his hand finds my breast, and my fingers tighten over his as his lips find the back of my neck, his hot breath sending chills down my spine. Our hips move in tandem, backwards and forwards, searching, pressing; looking for that right kind of friction.

His name slides from my lips; drawn out and breathy as his fingers brush my nipple, moving over it so gently, so feather-light, it could be mistaken for a dream. He kisses across the top of my shoulder as his fingers tug at it gently, making me shudder.

Sliding my hand behind me, I can feel him; hot, hard, and twitching against his underwear. As my hand touches him, his hips jerk, pushing into my fingers, the word _fuck_ falling from his lips; tumbling, deep and throaty into my subconscious. My hand flattens over his length, feeling the damp spot on his boxers. Whispering my name, his other arm slides underneath me, his hand pressed to my chest, right over my thundering heart.

Bold, fearless, uninhibited, I reach into his boxers and he shifts. With his lips beside my ear, I hear him swallow another _fuck_ as the tips of my fingers come into contact with his warm, soft skin. He's so hot and thick; a perfect weight in my hand. We're pressed against each other so tightly there's barely room to breathe, but it feels so good, so right.

My hips are practically shaking by the time his fingers move over the waistband of my underwear. Resting my leg on his, I let his fingers move where I need them. Anchoring me to his chest with his arm, he brushes two fingers over me, my hips jerking at his touch. He whispers my name as his grip tightens across my chest, his entire hand cupping me through my underwear. We move in tandem again, his fingers moving over me; mine, fumbling inside his boxers as he presses into my hand.

Turning my head slightly, my lips find his in the dark, all my want and desire flooding into our kisses, which he returns in kind. I feel like I'm going to explode at any minute, like with just the right amount of pressure, I might combust. With one hand cupping my jaw and the other between my legs, he kisses me, tugging on my lower lip gently.

When he moves his hand from between my legs, I almost whimper until I feel him pull his boxers off. Following his lead, I roll my underwear down my legs, kicking them off.

Maneuvering my legs a little, he positions himself between them, and I see stars. He wastes no time finding my needy flesh with his fingers. Soft and wet meet hard and hot as he shifts, sliding between my legs, groaning as he meets his own fingers as they slip into the heat, the warm, the _oh-God_, the place that feels so good it makes me shake.

He presses upward a little, teasing, tempting; sending me bat-shit crazy as he whispers to me, telling me he needs me, how hot and perfect I feel. My mouth is useless, frozen in a silent gasp, as he pushes himself all the way in, our bodies fitting together seamlessly. With his arms wrapped around me; one hand splayed flat against my chest, the other still between my legs; we move together slowly.

He moves so slowly I can feel every inch of him; it makes me shudder and groan; makes my body flush with heat and pulse with desire. When his fingers begin a steady rhythm to match his hips, the combination of having him inside and out drives me to the edge faster than I thought possible. He presses his other hand to my throat gently as my hips begin swiveling against his hand, my moans rattling against his fingers. I want to tell him to move faster, to push harder, to give me more, but he knows - he just knows. He's right there, pulling out further only to press in harder, better, faster, stronger; sending me tumbling over the edge, my entire body trembling and shaking as he follows, his grunts, a moan, my name, muffled in my hair.

Breathing hard, I turn and kiss him. This time it's slow and gentle, and I can feel a lazy smile on his lips. Without a word, we fall asleep, wrapped up like two pretzels.

* * *

_Apologies for the Kanye West reference. But, like he says; "That that won't kill me, can only make me stronger."_

_Thank you to Meg and Tiff for their amazing beta job. _

_And thank you to you for reading, and for the lovely reviews. _

_x Wink_


	24. Chapter 24

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 21 - Police Station**  
**Pen Name: Miss Winkles**  
**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**  
**Rating: M**

**Multi-chapter.**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**  
**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts**

* * *

_God, it's so fucking hot in here!_

It's the first thing that crosses my mind as I gently drift back into a conscious state. The second thing I notice is that I'm naked.

A momentary flash of confusion hits me as I try to remember just how it is that I came to be naked. But when Edward's head shifts, his fingers grasping reflexively around my right boob, it all comes rushing back.

Trying to be as still as possible, I crack one eye open, surprised to see a mop of bronze hair on my chest. Lifting a hand slowly, I brush the hair back from his forehead, grinning to myself when I realize he's still asleep; his cheek on one boob, his hand on the other.

What do you know, Edward's a boob guy.

He groans, and I can feel him stretching out his legs like a cat beneath the covers. His scruffy cheek nuzzles my chest once more before realization dawns on him. Slowly, his head turns up towards me, his sleepy-looking green eyes finding mine.

"Uh - hi."

His morning voice is croaky and deep, sexy as fuck.

"Hey," I reply.

He smiles, blinking his eyes a few times. Suddenly his hand moves from my chest, and he sits up a little.

"Uh – sorry about that."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "I think it's a little late for that, don't you?"

He smiles sheepishly, covering me with a sheet before lying down beside me and pulling me to him. "Fuck. That totally happened, didn't it?"

Lifting the sheet, I glance pointedly at our naked bodies, lingering on him a little longer than necessary. "Well, we're both naked, and I'm a little sore, so, yeah."

Smiling, he buries his face in my neck. "I didn't mean for that to happen - I promise. I was going to be such a gentleman, too."

He lifts his head as I snort. "I don't think you were the problem. I think _she_," I point to my lady-muffin, "was a little impatient."

I press my face into his chest, inhaling the smell of clean sheets and warm Edward.

"Watch it, your nose is cold," he says, laughing. "So, is it weird that I don't remember some of it?"

"My nose?"

He rolls his eyes. "Last night."

I gasp in mock indignation. "You mean you sleep fucked me?"

"No!" He smiles. "Okay, maybe a little, at the start. But there was definitely no…sex…while I was asleep."

"So, you're a sleep fucker. I'll have to remember that."

Ignoring me, Edward leans in for a kiss. "I'm a sleep fucker, you're a sleep talker – I think I win."

"I don't talk in my sleep."

He reels back, looking at me incredulously. "Yes you do."

I laugh. "No I don't."

"Are you serious?" His head drops to the side. "Last week when you fell asleep on the sofa, you kept talking about how there was no submarine parking at the licorice shop."

"Bullshit! I did not." He just smiles as I cackle loudly.

"You did!" he urges. "I can hold entire conversations with you while you sleep."

"You're such a liar!" I yell, giggling.

"I'm going to get proof, then we'll see who's lying."

"Whatever," I concede, pulling the sheet up around us both. "What should we do today?"

Edward grins. "Nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

Smiling at my tits appreciatively, he brushes a thumb over my nipple. "Well, _some_ things; just not a lot of things that require actually getting out of bed."

I stretch my arms out, wrapping them around his neck as he tucks his head into my shoulder. "Can we eat junk food in bed?"

He nods in the affirmative, kissing the dip in my collarbone.

"Can we watch crappy TV?"

Nodding again, his hand slides over my hip and up my back slowly.

"I only have two conditions," he whispers.

Breathing becomes somewhat of an issue as his teeth find the corner of my jaw, tugging gently at the skin.

"Uh-huh."

"One: you let me watch all the _Police Academy_ movies."

What starts as a groan of contempt, ends up a breathy, garbled moan as he pulls me flush against him.

"And two: you have to be naked all day."

"All day?" I squeak.

"All day."

His fingers move lazily down my spine, making me shiver in his arms. "Okay."

"Okay," he replies, kissing me once on the nose, and then springing out of bed so fast I almost face-plant a pillow.

I sit up in time to watch him duck into the bathroom. "Hey! Hey, that's not fair! That's coercion."

Edward re-appears, a toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do! _Police Academy_? Really?"

I hear him laugh from the en-suite, and decide to have a little fun of my own. He returns to bed a moment later with cold feet and minty breath.

"Actually," I say, putting my hand over his face and pushing him away. "I don't think this is going to work. I didn't know you had a thing for _Police Academy_."

Standing up out of bed, I pull Edward's t-shirt back on, flipping my hair out of the collar.

He laughs, stretching across the bed and tugging at the bottom of my t-shirt. "Where are you going?"

"Meh," I reply, slapping his hand away as I wriggle into my underwear. "I'm going to go back to my room. You enjoy _Police Academy_ though."

As I begin to walk away, he pounces, pulling me backwards onto the bed, his arms wrapped around me tightly.

"No!" I wail, flailing around as he pulls my shirt up over my face.

I scream bloody murder as he puts his mouth to my stomach and blows the loudest, most stomach-rattling raspberry I've ever heard.

"Okay! Okay!" I squeal. "Stop, please stop."

Smug, Edward falls back onto his side of the bed. "You're too easy."

I wiggle my eyebrows as I straddle his hips. "You weren't saying that last night."

* * *

_Tiff and Meg...I don't know. I've run out of words to describe them. They're cool beans._

_I know Police Academy is a crappy, crappy use of the prompt, but it was all I had! _

_Thank you for reading, and for the reviews. _

_x Wink_


	25. Chapter 25

"I don't know; you're the music freak, you pick something."

"It's your wedding, Rose. I can't pick the song you're going to dance with your husband to!"

Sweaty and panting from his run, Edward leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek.

"But it's hard!"

"That's…"

"Shut up! Don't even say it."

"What did she pick?" whispers Edward as he plops down beside me at the kitchen table, lunch in hand.

"_Wind Beneath My Wings_," I reply quietly.

Edward makes a face of disgust.

"What did he say?" asks Rose, listening in with her fucking bat-like hearing.

"He said…uh…"

"I said it's a shitty choice," Edward says loudly around a mouthful of his lunch.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," I say, closing his mouth with my fingers. Edward pulls his lips from my fingers, snapping his teeth at them playfully.

Rose laments the choices of wedding songs for a little longer, finally persuading me to pick something for her.

"What song are you going to choose?" asks Edward, rubbing his stomach.

I shrug, finishing off his sandwich. "_Highway to Hell_, maybe?"

He nods. "AC/DC - nice. What about _Come to Daddy_ by Aphex Twin?"

"Another good choice," I joke, giving him a high-five. "If Rose doesn't choose them, we can always have them!"

The second the words are out of my mouth, I want to shove them back in.

"I don't know," shrugs Edward, continuing to read the paper. "I always thought we'd have something more romantic, like _Move, Bitch_ by Ludacris."

He gives me a side-eye that tells me he heard my little slip, and my heartbeat flutters in my chest as he smiles anyway.

I take a calming breath, leaning over to kiss him once on the cheek.

"Did you run far today?"

He nods, turning the page.

"Did Jake go with you?"

He nods again.

"Whatcha readin'?"

"The paper."

"Anything good?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah."

"I'm bored."

"Go make the bed."

"You," I whine.

"You got out last."

"So?"

He puts the paper down and looks at me. "What am I supposed to do, make it while you're still in it?"

I don't know what it is about us, but our banter is like foreplay. And Christ almighty, Edward gives good banter. Smiling deviously at him, I crawl out of my seat and into his lap, squeezing between him and the table. His bottom lip disappears into his mouth, one corner of his top lip curling upwards as I slide my fingers into his hair.

He's a little smelly and his hair is damp from his run, but I don't care. Edward's touch makes me feel beautiful, wanted; like there's nowhere else he'd rather be. Our road hasn't been smooth, but we don't sweat the little things either. In each other, we've found our equal; the person who makes everything so damn easy, so perfect. He's my goofy-sexy boyfriend, the person that, if all goes according to plan, I'll spend the rest of my life making happy. He's the only person I want to pull stupid faces with, until we're laughing so hard our stomachs ache; the only person who lets me tuck my icy-cold feet between his warm ones at night. Together we're better people, and no one in the whole world makes me feel the way he does.

Especially when he's doing what he's doing right the fuck now.

His hands push my boobs up as his tongue finds the valley between them. I can feel him harden underneath me as my hips shift downwards seeking friction.

"Have I told you how much I love these babies?" he asks, his attention still on my chest.

"I think you've mentioned it once or twice."

"I do," he says, emphasizing his point by giving them a squeeze, making me squirm. "I love them. I love you guys, both of you," he says sweetly – to my boobs. "I love them and I love you."

"We love you, too," I reply as he pulls my shirt over my head, my bra following suit. Kissing me roughly, he stands, lifting me up out of his lap and onto the tabletop.

"I should close the blinds," he mumbles against my skin.

"It's not like anyone can see."

He laughs. "No you're right, just everyone on the beach."

"We're on the fourth floor. No one can see, you big prude."

His eyebrow quirks upwards. "Prude? Me? I'll show you."

With that, he slides my pants off and pulls me to the edge of the table, dropping to his knees in front of me. With my feet on his shoulders and my hands in his hair, he makes me come so hard I see stars and I think even the people on the beach hear me.

Panting, I pull him up to me, reaching for the waistband of his gym shorts as he kisses me, the taste of me still heavy in his mouth. As he moves to lower them, the strains of a White Stripes song blast from his phone. Fumbling in his pockets, he pulls it out, frowning as he looks at the screen.

Impatient, I grab it from him. "City morgue!"

"Bella!"

I roll my eyes, pointing to Edward's pants, mouthing the word _off_.

"Jake," I reply. "Not a good time."

"Why not? Where's Cullen?"

Edward pulls his pants off, stumbling a bit as his feet get caught.

"He's…" I giggle as Edward nearly trips on his underwear, catching himself on the tabletop before he falls face-first into my beaver. "He's busy."

"Wait a minute." Jake is quiet for a moment, I can practically hear the cogs ticking over in his brain. "Are you two fucking?"

I laugh as Edward snatches the phone from me.

"Jake," he says with a laugh as he leans over me. "I'll call you back….Well that'll teach you for calling when I'm trying to rock Bella's world!"

Hanging up, Edward throws his phone over his shoulder. "Now, where was I?"

"You were about to rock my world, Mr. Cullen."

He grimaces. "Please don't call me Mr. Cullen when I'm about to defile you on the kitchen table. My kids call me Mr. Cullen."

"Right, got it, no pet names."

He lets out a shaky breath as we connect, his head falling against my chest.

"Oh, wait," I gasp as he starts moving, his hips snapping against mine so hard my eyes almost roll back in my head. "There's a pencil under my butt."

Edward grunts, lifting me up so I can pull the offending piece of stationary out of my ass.

"Okay, keep going."

"Okay, thank you," he says, a breathy laugh washing over my neck as he wraps my leg around his waist.

"No – _oh, fuck_ – no problems."

"Can you stop talking now please? I'm trying to concentrate."

I'm slipping further onto the table with each of Edward's thrusts; my ass making a squeaking noise as it slides across the glass.

"Sorry. I'll shut up."

"Please."

To be honest, during sex is probably the only time either of us _do_ shut up.

Real love isn't meant to be perfect, and believe me, we're not the perfect couple. We fight and we bicker, he still leaves his coffee cups everywhere, and I leave the toothpaste in the shower. But he's my best friend, my soul mate, my angelfish. And to be honest, I couldn't imagine doing it all with anyone else.

* * *

_When mating, Angelfish form monogamous pairs. These relationships are long term. If one of the pair are removed, or die, the remaining fish will often never form another relationship. When they become parents they will watch over the eggs until they are hatched._

* * *

_Tiff and Meg held my hand and taught me how to use semi-colons. I love them so fucking hard. _

_Notice i'm not saying goodbye? A: I don't do goodbyes. B: I'm not finished with these two. While I won't update as regularly as I have, there are a few outtakes and some EPOV I want to post before I click that "Complete" button._

_When I mentioned Yo La Tengo in a previous and chapter and said not to watch it – a few of you did. DO NOT – I REPEAT – DO NOT watch the clip for Aphex Twin's Come To Daddy. It is scary as fuck. You've been warned._

_Thank you for the reviews - I'm slowly getting to replies. _

_x See you soon_

_Wink_


	26. Chapter 26

**Prompt - data . whicdn images/28665321/tumblr_m2jpkcTiD81r6jqvfo1_500_large . jpg**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**EPOV**

* * *

You can't pinpoint love to one particular moment. Just like sometimes, you can't quite describe why you love someone - you just do. I guess falling in love with Bella was like that; a series of moments, a thousand different reasons.

For me, it was watching her scrub the shower basin, her hair falling out of that stupid bun-thing, her cheeks flushed, and the smell of bleach in the air. It just hit me: somewhere between _Karate _Kid reruns and tequila shots, I had fallen for Bella.

I know what you're thinking; you're thinking I must have known beforehand. That _surely _I must have had some idea of my feelings for my annoying, but completely amazing, trash-talking, housemate. And you're right - I did. But I was engaged, and frankly, ignoring that nagging voice that piped up every time she made me smile; the voice that screamed and beat its chest like a fucking caveman every time it saw her with Garrett.

Sam and I met young. It's a bad excuse, but it's true. When you've been together as long as we had, there's a natural progression to your relationship. People were constantly nagging, putting pressure on us to take the next step. We'd never really spoken about marriage with any conviction, but I knew she wanted to. That's what chicks want, right? So we got engaged. She picked out a ring, we had a little dinner with our family at a restaurant, and then she flew halfway around the world to dance.

At first we didn't think too much of it, we were independent people after all. I'd stay here, working, going about my normal life, while Sam traipsed around Europe.

And then, in walks Bella Swan.

Christ on a cracker.

That girl knew how to push every button I had. She still does.

After six months of long-distance relationship, and hundreds of dollars in international calls, I knew things weren't right with Sam and me. I should have wanted to be there with her, should have been happy that she was being offered these amazing opportunities. And on the flip side, she should have wanted to be where I was. Six months turned into eight, eight into twelve, and then suddenly she wanted to uproot both of our lives, and have me join her in Russia.

The whole situation was confusing at best, and my head and the heart were not always in agreement. Brain said, _Edward_, _you and Sam are engaged. You can't leave her now, what will everyone think? It'll all be fine when she comes home._

But that traitorous, bastard heart was the problem. It was the one that said, _Who says she IS coming home? _And,_ Don't think I haven't seen you checking out Bella's goods, mister._

And truthfully, even before Sam and I broke things off, I knew the way I felt about Bella was anything but platonic. She made me laugh, made me smile, she made me crazy-fucking-insane.

I found myself looking forward to the mornings; watching her potter around before work, drinking coffee at the breakfast bench, my toast always waiting for me. Helping her find her keys, purse, credit card, other shoe or various other personal belonging she'd managed to misplace over night. And then, when I was at work, as soon as the clock ticked past lunch time, I was instantly excited to get home again. When I heard a song on the radio, I would make sure to remember it if I thought she would like it. It was like every moment of my waking day was filled with thinking about her, when I should have been thinking about my fiancé.

_Months earlier..._

"Are you kidding? She's fine as shit!" balks Jake, staring at a blonde across the room.

I'm kind of regretting bringing him to the party. But other than Bella, Rose, and Emmett, I don't know anyone, and he's been bugging me to do something for the last few weeks. Jake's a great guy; my best friend. But he leads with his dick and doesn't think before he talks. It's funny to watch, if a little embarrassing at times.

"Not my type," I reply with a shrug.

Even Emmett snorts. "She's blonde with big tits - she's everyone's type."

Jake high fives Emmett. "Yeah, and whaddya mean 'not your type'? Your fiancé is blonde."

I roll my eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Sam doesn't have tits like that. I'd suffocate between those things."

Jake grins, rubbing his hands together. "No way, I'm totally going to motorboat those puppies." He shakes his head side to side, pretending to rub his face between two big-ass titties.

Her face a picture of disgust, Rose slips between a laughing Emmett and I. "Sorry to interrupt this intellectually stimulating conversation, but, have you seen Bella?"

I turn in a slow circle, looking for the bright orange, sorry, _coral_, top she's wearing. "Nope. Why? Can't find her?"

She shakes her head, chewing the inside of her mouth. "No. The last time I saw her she was having Absolut shots, and letting Ben Cheney lick salt off her chest."

_I'll kill that fucker. _

"Should we be worried?" I ask, repressing a rather large and vicious urge to punch something, or someone - preferably a six-foot, blonde-haired, hipster-looking motherfucker.

Emmett chuckles. "Have you seen Bella when she's had too much vodka? It's the funniest thing you've ever seen."

Slapping his chest, Rose scowls. "It's funny until she vomits in the back seat of a cab. Or in your handbag."

Emmett groans in disgust, obviously having seen it firsthand.

"I'll go look for her," I say, handing my beer to Jake, who's got his eyes fixed on big tits again.

I'm only halfway across the room when I hear her. Apparently vodka Bella is loud Bella.

"Edwaaarrrrd!" she yells, a half empty glass in her hand. Wide eyed and pink-cheeked, she's swaying a little, using some this Cheney dude beside her for support. "Haaaaaave you met Ben?" she says, pointing to the dude holding her up.

Ben catches me looking at the hand he's currently got wrapped around her waist, promptly removing it when I raise an eyebrow subtly. "She's all yours, man."

Giggling, Bella tumbles into my arms, waving at a retreating Ben. "Bye, Ben! Bye! See yaaaa!"

Holding on to me for support, she grins up at me; all her teeth and some gum showing. As ridiculous and she looks, as obnoxious as she is, I can't help but smile back.

"I'm a li-ttle drunk," she whispers conspiratorially. Her breath smells like raspberry Fanta and her lips and tongue are stained red.

"You don't say."

Her clammy hand pats my hair, sliding down my face. "You're so pretty." Her eyes are starting to droop and I can see this heading south pretty quickly.

Dodging her hand, I push her against the kitchen counter. "Up," I say, patting the bench.

She tries twice to lift herself up, but both times misses the counter, her legs flailing around wildly. Sighing, my hands wrap around her slim waist, and I hoist her up beside the kitchen sink. She sings loudly, off key, as I rinse out a glass and fill it with cold water.

"Drink."

Wrapping her hands around the glass, she takes big gulps, watching me the entire time. Once the glass in empty, she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and burps loudly.

"You're all class."

"All class, no ass!" she says, leaning over and slapping her butt.

I roll my eyes as she continues to cackle loudly while I help her down. "Okay, home time for you."

"I don't wanna go!" she complains with a pout. "I wanna dance."

"No you don't. You want to go home and sleep off the bottle of vodka you drank."

"Ugghh, vodka."

I watch her face turn from smiles and flushed cheeks, to pale and glassy-eyed. She swallows hard, smacking her lips together.

"Ughhh." She sways a little, her hand fluttering over her stomach. "I don't feel good."

_Oh, fuck. _

With her hand in mine firmly, I lead her outside, and set her down beside a garden bed.

I snap my fingers in front of her face. "Bella, look at me." She cranes her head to look up at me, her mouth formed into cute little pout. "Stay here, okay?"

"Whereyougoinnng?" she slurs.

"I'm going to call a cab. Just don't move."

"Nooooo!" she wails, flailing her arms around. "Don-leave meee."

"I'll be one minute, Bella. I just have to get my jacket and my phone."

She sits up straight, her hands flat on her knees, her head up. "O-kay. I'm good. I'll," she hiccups, "I'll be fine."

Just as I turn to run upstairs - THUMP! She falls backwards into the garden. Her legs are sticking up in the air awkwardly, her arms out beside her. I can't laughing as I try to sit her back up, but she's out cold. "Fuck."

She's going to be so embarrassed tomorrow.

Luckily, Bella's phone is in her back pocket. After delicately removing it, and totally not feeling her ass, I call Jake.

"Can you come outside for a minute?"

"Wow, Bella, your voice is all deep and raspy - it's kinda hot."

"Shut up, dickwad. I need a hand."

"Ed, I'm like, a slow dance and a Jagermeister shot away from a motorboat, dude."

"Two minutes, Jake. I just need you to help me get Bella into a cab."

Bella chooses that exact moment to roll over in the garden bed, her hair full of bark chips, and empty the contents of her stomach loudly.

Jake sighs. "I'll be down in a minute."

He comes down quickly and, after calling a cab, helps me lift a semi-conscious, vomit splattered Bella into the backseat. Not before taking her picture on his phone, of course; for posterity apparently. More like bribery. I get him to send me a copy.

"If she pukes, it's an extra fifty," spits the driver.

"Just drive," I snap back, sliding into the back seat where Bella is stretched out, her head on my lap.

The ends of her hair are matted with vomit, and there are dry leaves and twigs stuck to her clothes. She mumbles incoherently as the driver hits every fucking pothole in town. I have to shift her a little as she nuzzles her head into my lap, edging worryingly closer to my traitorous dick.

It's not Bella making me hard, it's just been a while; she's a girl, I'm a guy. It's natural. It's the vibrations from the cab ride.

Even I know my excuses are lame.

When we arrive at the apartment, it's clear pretty quickly that no amount of gentle prodding and shaking is going to wake her. Lucky for me, Bella weighs one eighth of fuck all, and carrying her isn't too hard. In the elevator on the way up, I look down and find her eyes open a little.

"I vomited in my hair."

"Yep."

"Did any get on you?"

"Nope, I'm vomit-free."

In the minute and a half it takes me to get her into the apartment, she's fallen asleep again, and is snoring loudly.

With her still in my arms, I contemplate putting her in bed, or the shower. As much as my dick would like me to put her in the shower, I decide against it.

She groans as I put her on the bed, yank her stupid stiletto heels off, and tuck her under the covers. She pulls the comforter up under her chin, throwing one leg out the side. Her sheets smell like lavender and fabric softener, with the unmistakable undertone of Bella.

"We'd make pretty babies," she mumbles.

I should leave. But I don't.

"Yeah?" I brush her crusty hair away from her face.

Bella mumbles something incoherent, her fingers twitching under her chin.

I'm so stupid and idiotic, and I need to leave. But I don't.

"Would they have my hair or yours?" I ask, rubbing her back lightly, my stomach twisting as she practically purrs under my light touch.

"No, no redheads!"

I stifle a laugh. "My hair isn't red."

"...call them Honey and Bubbles."

"Bubbles?"

"Bubbles! And we could teach them to cook toffee and fly kites."

Snorting she rolls onto her back, almost whacking me in the face with her hand.

"I'll have the pink one, Mom," she says quietly, and I take that as my cue to leave.

My eyes are heavy as I strip off and get into bed, but the minute my head hits the pillow, it's like I'm wide awake again.

What if she vomits in her sleep?

What if she's got alcohol poisoning?

What if she gets up to go to the bathroom and trips over and knocks herself out?

These are the stupid, incessant worries that roll through my brain as I lie there, half naked, trying to sleep. After half an hour, I throw the covers back and tiptoe into her room. Just to make sure, of course.

She's still in bed, thank God. Her window-rattling snore tells me she's still breathing too, which is a plus. But, somehow, she's managed to wrestle off her pants and shirt in her sleep. The leg of her black jeans dangle from one foot, like she started taking them off and then couldn't be bothered finishing. Her shirt was obviously easy, since she's lying tangled in the sheets in just a bra.

Gently, I pull the covers up and over her again.

As I stand to leave, her fingers catch mine, wrapping tightly around them.

"Stay," she whispers, her brow furrowed and her eyes closed.

_Don't do it, Edward. _

_Don't do it._

My teeth worry the inside of my cheek.

What the fuck, right? I'm just helping a friend, making sure she doesn't die a Hendrix style death.

Since I'm just in my boxers, I lie on top of the sheets beside her, two fingers of my left hand still locked in her death grip.

Her hair smells a little like vomit and her apple scented shampoo.

Her hand is warm and kind of clammy, wrapped tightly around mine as she tucks them both under her chin.

But her skin is soft, the muted light drifting in her window highlighting the delicate curve of her shoulder.

And it's that moment there, right there, listening to her snore, trying to keep a safe distance from her whilst keeping myself warm, that I realise I'm in over my head.

I love Sam, but it's not enough.

I'm so epically fucked.

* * *

**_Hello again! _**

**_As you can see, outtakes will be longer than the previous chapters. Otherwise i'd have 4382927045 more, and that just won't do. _**

_**Meg and Tiff are still on board, still rocking my comma whore world. Thank you also to the ladies on Twitter (you know who you are). Prompts for the next few chapters will come from them, and there's some doozies!**_

**_Thank you to everyone still reviewing and alerting. I'm still blown away and cheesy-face-grinning. xxx_**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hello again**

**I'm working with two picture prompts.**

**This one: **

** 24 . media . tumblr tumblr_m3y6y3CeGw1qllx1xo1_500 . jpg**

**And this one (with thanks to JadaPattinson):**

** 25 . tumblr_lygdr3vZzk1qhn6k5o1_500 . jpg**

**EPOV **

* * *

Emmett, his best man, Pete, and I, are watching the last ten minutes of a game as the rest of the engagement party carries on around us. Rose agreed that we could watch it as long as the sound was turned down, and we kept out of everyone's way. So the sound is on silent and we're huddled together a few feet from the TV screen, trying to be inconspicuous. But the scores are close and we're all on edge. Emmett is practically vibrating next to me, waiting for a touchdown, a point, something, to break the tension.

"Fucking, what?" yells Emmett as the ref makes a bad call. Pete looks like he wants to throw his beer bottle at the TV.

"'Scuse me." A finger taps me on the chest roughly, and I look down to find a wobbly looking Rose at my feet.

I try to look around the top of her head, groaning at another bad pass. "Sup, Rose?"

"I need to talk to you."

I look down again, cowering backwards a little as she glares up at me with her tipsy eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing, babe?" asks Emmett, watching her for a second before turning back to the game. "It's overtime. You can talk to Edward later."

She stomps her foot; her six-inch heels narrowly missing my toes. "No nooooow!"

I laugh when she pouts. "What's up, Rosie-Rose?"

"I'm giving you the best friend talk, Edward. This is me," she wiggles her finger in my face, "giving you _the talk_."

"Ooh, _the talk_. Should I sit down? Do I need a pen and paper?"

Rose rolls her eyes. "You're just like her, you know. Be serious for a minute, please!"

Giving her an exaggerated serious face, I look at Rose thoughtfully. "I am serious!"

She laughs at my expression. "That's the ugliest face I've ever seen. You better hope the wind doesn't change."

"You mean it might change, and I could look like you forever?"

Emmett laughs and we high-five.

Rose just snorts. "Ha-ha. You're both dicks."

I pat her shoulder lightly, trying to move her out of my field of vision. "Great talking with you, Rose."

She turns to leave, but stops short, spinning around to face me again. "Hey!" she yells, punching me in the arm.

Flinching, I rub my arm. The girl's got some serious upper body strength.

"I'll say this once and once only, Edward mother-fucking Cullen..."

"There's more? I thought we had the talk already...WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"

Emmett and I shout at the TV, making the entire party turn.

Rose grabs me by the front of my shirt, bringing me down to her eye level.

"You listen to me. You see that girl over there." She points across the room, where I spot Bella, screaming at the top of her lungs to _Livin' on a Prayer_. "That's my girl; my brother from another mother, sister from another mister, my BF-fucking-F."

I'm caught between trying to watch the game, trying not to have my balls handed to me by Rose, and trying to sneak a peek at my ridiculous, but insanely hot girlfriend. She's throwing her hair around, singing into an invisible microphone and really, could not look any cuter if she tried.

"You hurt her and I will fuck you up and make it look like an accident, you hear me?"

I nod as the boys shout at the TV. All I see is a face full of Rose.

"My Kung-fu is strong, Edward. I could fuck your shit up. I'll punch you so hard your..."

"Babe!"

Emmett catches Rose's attention, pulling her away. "Enough already. He gets it. I get. We all get it. Anyway, I gave him the talk weeks ago."

"You did?"

"Yep. He knows I know the best place to hide a body, right, Ed?"

I nod, tipping my beer bottle, tapping it against Emmett's.

The final whistle blows and the game is over. We lost by a point.

Emmett whispers something into Rose's ear, taps her on the ass, sending her on her wobbly way.

"I'M GETTING MARRIED, MOTHER-FUCKERS!" she yells, answered by a chorus of screaming women.

* * *

Later that night, after an afternoon of drinks and good company, Bella and I make our way home; tired, tipsy, and happy.

I had all intentions of molesting her boobs on the sofa while she caught up on her shows, but once we sat down, it was like all the energy drained out of me. Instead, we lay tangled together, dozing, watching _Fresh Prince of Bel Air_ reruns.

When I wake some time later, the space beside me is empty, and I can hear Bella rattling around in the kitchen.

She's sitting on the bar stool, her legs swinging back and forth as she shovels a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Her bare shoulder peeks out the neck of one of my old t-shirts, a pair of grey knee socks covering her toes and knees. I watch her for a moment, looking on as she alternates between eating and tapping away at the keyboard of her laptop.

Not content to watch from afar anymore, I approach quietly and lean in to kiss her shoulder, tucking my arms around her midsection and resting my chin beside her ear.

Her eyes still attached to her laptop, she lifts the bowl and spoon to my mouth, giving me a taste.

"Mmm. Chocolately."

She takes a deep breath, sighing contentedly as I push my face into the skin of her neck, kissing her soundly.

"More?" I ask, sort of talking about the cereal, sort of...not.

She turns in the chair, wrapping her legs around the top of my thighs. Smiling, she lifts the spoon to my mouth, little drips of chocolate flavored milk splashing back into the bowl. The spoon is almost at my mouth, when she "slips" and half the cereal ends up down the front of my shirt, the rest in my mouth.

"Oops."

She grins, and I can see that she's suppressing a giggle as she tucks her lip between her teeth.

Wiping the milk from my chin, I lick it off my shirt front too. "You think you're so funny."

With a mouth full of Cocoa Puffs, she laughs, bouncing on the chair. "I'm hilarious."

She's waiting for me to retaliate, watching me with expectant eyes. But I don't react; instead, I just flip my shirt over my head and leave her sitting in the kitchen.

I'm in the bedroom, fresh out of the shower, when she finds me. I twist sideways once, then the other way, stretching my arms out too.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Pulling my knee up to my chest, I give her a wink. "Stretching."

She flips her hair up on top of her head, securing it with a tie. "And you're stretching because..."

Bending into a lunge, I smirk. "You know why."

Snorting, she takes off my old shirt, and drops it beside the bed. "Nope. Can't say I do."

Oh, she's feisty tonight. I like it. "Girl, you're gonna get it."

Bella laughs. "Get it, huh? And you're going to give it to me, are you?"

Bending at the waist, I give her a little sneak peek at my ass. "I most certainly am."

Her hands on her hips, she smirks back, stretching one arm across her chest, and then the other. "Not if I give it to you first."

Cracking my knuckles, I snort. "It's like that, is it?"

She nods, rolling her head around on her shoulders. "I'm going to give it to you good."

I stand up straight, beckoning her across the bedroom with my open hands. "Let's have it then, let's see what you got, Swan."

Narrowing her eyes, she prowls forward slowly a few steps and then, with a hop-skip-jump, she tackles me, wrapping her legs around my waist.

"Take this!" she screams, kissing me all over my face. "And this!"

Our kiss fight turns into a tickle fight, and from there she doesn't stand a chance. She's ticklish everywhere; ribs, feet, behind her knees, her hipbones. I, on the other hand, am not ticklish at all.

"I am the champion!" I crow as she pants beneath me, her body limp from laughing. With my legs on either side of her hips, I do a little victory bed-dance.

I'm in the middle of a Jay-Z style dirt off your shoulder type move, when Bella pulls the ultimate fighting move, and pinches my nipples.

Wailing like a girl, I bat her hands away and climb off her, trying to get away from her ouchie little fingers.

"No fair! You know I have sensitive nipples."

"Aw," croons Bella, climbing on top of me, in much the same position as I was just moments before. "Want me to kiss them better?"

With my hands still clamped over my poor, abused nipples, I pout. "Yes."

Moving my hands gently, she leans forward and kisses each one gently.

"Better?"

I shrug. "Eh."

Her chin resting on my chest, she looks up at me, her pretty eyes soft and lovely.

"I have a few other owies you can kiss better."

"Oh, really?"

I nod.

Lifting her head, she points to the dip beneath my sternum, right where my ribs meet. "Here?"

I nod again, smiling as she kisses the spot softly.

Trailing her finger down the middle of my abdomen, she pokes my bellybutton. "Here?"

"Yep."

Again, she kisses me, her lips tickling the soft hair on my stomach.

Moving further down, she slips a finger under the waistband of my underwear, moving it side to side. "What about here?"

"Definitely."

Folding down the thick elastic, she kisses across the line of my boxers slowly, her lips moving from one hip bone to the other.

My stomach flexes, my fingers twitching at my sides as she slips her hand inside the material. Her hand is soft and smooth, and I'm hard and aching, almost twitching in her fingers.

Repositioning herself, Bella leans down and runs her tongue up the length of my dick.

Bella and I have a great sex life; the best. And I love making her happy, I do. But fucking-a, the girl gives the best blow jobs in the world. Not that I've had a BJ from everyone in the world, but you know what I mean.

She knows just when to speed up, and when to go slow. She seems to have the ability to know exactly what I want before I want it. It's embarrassing the noises I make when she's going down on me.

My hands fist the sheets beside my hips as she takes me deep, her fingernails scratching lightly over the skin of my pelvis. As she does this, I have the insane urge to tangle my fingers into her hair, to feel her head between my hands as it bobs up and down on my dick.

But I resist the urge though. Apparently girls don't like that, so I keep my hands to myself.

For a minute anyway.

I can't help but brush the hair from her face, gathering it over one side of her head, holding on to it momentarily, before letting it spill over my thigh. Before my hand can move too far, Bella reaches out and grabs it, attaching it firmly to the top of her head.

"Jesus...fuck...Bella."

She smiles up at me, her lips and cheeks pink. "Just do it. I want you to."

Swallowing the urge to scream FUCK YEAH!, I relax into the bed and keep my hand on her head as she takes me back in her mouth.

I can feel her hair shifting against my fingers. And even though I don't put any pressure on her head, the view from where I lie is pretty fucking awesome. It flicks some caveman instinct in my brain; the feel of her jaw on my fingertips, her soft hair between my fingers.

It only takes her fingers, soft but firm, on the skin behind my balls, and I'm coming so hard I think I black out a little.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!"

Securing me back into my boxers, Bella kisses her way up my stomach, a wry smile on her face as she kisses me on the chin.

"Who's the champion now?"

* * *

**_Endless thank yous to Meg and Tiff for being the quickest, most besterest beta's._**

**_Thank you to you for reading, and for reviewing. I apologize for not getting to review replies in a timely fashion._**

**_xx Wink_**


	28. Chapter 28

**Again, prompt via JadaPattinson and StickyBuns. **

**This one**

goo . gl/1axVm

**And this one (via Catamine - my Rose)**

youtu . be/RGr10hTkqks

* * *

Holding my handbag between my teeth, a folder of work documents in one hand, dinner in the other, and my laptop under my arm, I scramble up the hallway, almost losing a shoe in the process.

"Ehward!" I yell around a mouthful of Italian leather as I slam the door shut with my foot.

"What?" he yells back.

I dump everything onto the kitchen bench, too excited to care when it all tumbles off the edge and onto the floor.

"Edward!"

"WHAT?"

He stomps out of the second bedroom; the one that was once mine, now, a little home office.

"Guess what, guess what, guess what?"

I'm jumping up and down on the spot, my hands whipping around.

"What?" he repeats in a high-pitched voice, copying my stupid dance. Smartass.

"Guess who's coming to town?"

"SANTA?"

"No! Guess again. Think hot lead singer...um...oh, oh! And that time we wanted to go to the Headspace Festival, but I couldn't get the time off work, and we were totally bummed because we didn't get to see them, so we had a mini-concert here and..."

"No fucking way!" Edwards's eyes pop open with excitement.

Pulling two tickets from my back pocket, I hold them in front of my face showing Edward. His responding expression is the kind of thing that makes my whole day brighter. It makes me want to laugh, cry, scream and jump him all at once.

"Are you kidding me?" He's so excited that now we're both jumping up and down.

That night we cook dinner listening to music; each of us picking our favorite songs, singing into wooden spoons and spatulas, and playing the air-guitar. It doesn't even faze us when we burn dinner, we just eat around the burned bits, playing our music loudly, smiling like goons.

* * *

"You're so cute in your band tee," I tease, smacking Edward's ass as we line up, waiting to pay an exorbitant amount for crappy concert beer.

"I had this before they were cool," says Edward flippantly, rolling his eyes.

I roll mine back at him. "O-kay."

"I did. Stupid Shia La-whatshisname ruined a good shirt with that stupid _Transformers_ movie."

We buy our beers and slowly make our way through the crowds, trying to edge as close as we can to the front of the stage.

"Are you going flash your boobs for him?" Edward asks, referring to the lead singer.

"No way!"

I totally would. That man is fine. Although, not as fine as Edward. I was only joking around when I teased him about his t-shirt. He looks really goddamn cute in his black jeans and band tee. His hair is stupidly long, it actually needs a cut; it's poking out of his black knit-cap, curling around the nape of his neck. I'm kind of looking forward to being squashed against him all night. He's tapping his fingers against his plastic beer cup, watching everyone around us chatter excitedly, his finger hooked around my pinkie, keeping me close.

Little things like this make me proud to be his girl. It's strange, I know. It's sort of a weird form of possessiveness, knowing that all the girls around us are probably checking him out, yet he's mine. Sometimes I want to grab him and kiss him, rub myself all over him to show those bitches I'm his girl. But I don't; we don't need huge romantic gestures and saliva-filled PDA's to show our affection for each other. It's in the way he looks at me across a crowded room, or the way he tucks his little finger under the waistband of my jeans when his hand is on my lower back. Of course, when we're both really drunk it's a different matter all together. He gets mushy and sweet, full of little kisses and googly-eyes, and I get horny as a motherfucker. It's a win-win situation.

I'm busy checking out my fine-ass boyfriend when someone bumps into me from behind, sending beer sloshing over the side of my cup and onto my jeans.

"Hey, watch it," snaps Edward to the guy, pulling me closer. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I reply, brushing the beer off my pants. "It's all good."

The support band is okay, although really, the crowd is a little noisy to appreciate them. As soon as they finish their last song, it's like the place doubles in capacity. The small amount of breathing space we had is gone, and now we're packed in like sardines. Edward keeps his arms around me, holding me upright as people start to push and jostle, trying to get closer.

My biggest pet peeve at concerts is people who try to push in right at the last minute. Bitch, I did my time; I've been standing here for over an hour, don't fucking _'excuse me_' and give me those doe-eyes. Go to the back where you belong. A few people get the full force of my stink-eye, but Edward is a great shepherd, helping us stand our ground.

The crowd shifts as the lights go down, and all around me the stadium erupts into an explosion of noise. People clap, chant, scream, and stamp their feet. It seems like it can't get any louder, until the band appears, and it does.

My heartbeat explodes in my chest as the lead singer saunters to the mic; long fingers wrapped around the stand, long, skinny legs wrapped in dark denim. _Ugh_. He's like sex, and rock and roll, and debauchery. Greasy, chin-length hair, black nail polish, and a voice that makes your reproductive organs melt. Intensely nonchalant, he works the crowd into a frenzy faster than a two-dollar hooker.

Halfway through the first song, my view gets blocked by a rather wide-assed dude, his limp, smelly hair whipping me in the face. Before I get the chance to move out of the way though, Edward drops to his knees and pops his head between my legs, and in a move that makes me scream bloody murder, stands back up with me perched on his shoulders. My hands instinctively grip his head; I think I even poke him in the eye accidentally.

But holy shit; the view is amazing.

I must be heavy on Edward's shoulders, but if I am, he doesn't say so. He just tucks my feet under his arms, securing me to him, and continues to enjoy the concert. My new position affords me a birds-eye view of the general admission area. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of heads bob up and down, like a rolling sea, waves of people awash with bright lights and crazy green lasers. With my hands in the air, I clap along with the fans, screaming the lyrics at the top of my lungs.

When the opening bass line to my favorite song rumbles from the speakers, I scream so loud I can feel Edward shaking with laughter beneath me. I scream louder than I ever thought possible, like I'm being chased by a fucking chainsaw wielding murderer.

And then, time stops; and for one moment, a single second in time, Julian is looking at me. He's looking at ME. Well, he's looking near me, but it feels like he's looking right at me. With his mic in hand, the words spit from his lips, grinding between his teeth, each one slamming into me like wave after wave of raw, sexual energy.

So what do I do?

The only thing I can do.

I lift my top and flash my tits.

Just for a second. A heartbeat, really.

With my top back down, the crowd around me cheers, and I swear, I fucking swear, he winks at me.

"Oh my god!" I scream, wobbling a little as I flail around like the crazed fangirl I am. I guess this is what it's like for Justin Beaver fans.

I'm lit like an electric wire; pulsating with excitement. Leaning over forwards, I drop my face in front of Edward's, grab him by the jaw, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of him. He does well, trying to keep us steady and kiss me at the same time. I can feel him laughing into our kiss; feel the smile break across his lips.

"Did you just flash your boobs?" he asks, looking at me upside down.

"Yes!" I screetch.

He kisses me once more. "You're insane. I love you, but you're insane."

After a few songs, I hop down, happy to be pushed and pulled in every direction as the crowd surges around us. A few times, I'm sure my feet aren't actually on the ground, I'm wedged so tightly between people that I'm hovering mid-air instead. My feet get trampled, and I think Edward accidentally gives me an elbow in the head at some point, but I fucking love this. I feel invincible, the way the adrenaline pumps through my body, the heat swirling through me as the music washes over me.

But all too soon it's over. My ears are ringing, the toe on my left foot is sore from being squashed, and I have sweat all over me; some mine, some not. But if there's one person who looks happier than me, it can only be Edward.

He talks incessantly all the way home, his hands gesticulating wildly, eyes shiny and excited.

"I can't believe you flashed your tits!" he laughs.

I blush instantly, embarrassed but also a little proud of myself for doing it. "I know, me either!"

Our excitement carries us all the way home, via a McDonalds drive-thru of course.

* * *

I'm fishing through my handbag, looking for my house keys, when Edward presses me into our front door, my boobs squished up against the hard wood.

"Mmm," he moans, his nose trailing across my shoulder. "You smell like sweat and French fries."

"The scent of love," I joke, trying to get the key in the lock.

My fingers fumble with the keys as he pushes harder against me, his lips following the curve of my neck. I swallow hard as he brushes my hair over one shoulder, continuing his path upwards, and then back down again.

"Jesus," I groan, as his teeth grip the skin where my shoulder and neck meet, hard, but not hard enough to hurt me.

"Remember the first time we did this?" he whispers, his hand gripping my hip, his fingers splayed wide over my hipbone.

Dizzy and wobbly-kneed, I nod.

Pushing his hand between me and the door, his fingers rub me through the denim of my jeans, making my knees weak and my eyes roll back in my head.

"Here?" I gasp.

"Right the fuck here."

I want to protest. There are cameras, and Mr. Ateara from next door has already complained about our late night noises. But – _oh-my-god-right-the-fuck-there_ – the way Edward has me pinned to the door, his hand sliding over my pants – I don't give a fuck.

He smiles against the skin of my neck as I slip my hand down my front, undoing the button on my pants.

"You want me to make you come right here? In the hallway?"

Fuck. Dirty-talking Edward normally only comes out once he's had a few drinks, but something's got him riled up and, fuck me sideways, the things he's whispering in my ear are pornographic. And not the vanilla kind of porn, the kind you find way in the back, behind the black curtain.

With one hand up the front of my shirt, the other slips down the front of my jeans and under my underwear.

"Oh, fuck."

"You like that?" he asks, knowing full well that since I'm practically riding his hand in the hallway, that yes, I do like it.

His hips push against my ass, rocking me forward onto his hand. I'm like his marionette as he pulls my strings, pushing me forwards, backwards, rocking me until I'm a groaning, whimpering mess in his hands.

All it takes is a minute shift of his hand, two fingers slipping inside me; once, twice, a third time – and I'm pounding against the front door, trying to stay on my feet as my orgasm rips through me.

Panting, I press my head to the door.

"Fucking A."

With a flick of his wrist, Edward turns the door handle, and we stumble forward into the apartment. We don't make it any further than the entrance, falling to the carpet just inside the door.

Stupid skinny jeans. They look great, but man, are they a pain in the ass to get off quickly. In the end, Edward doesn't even bother taking them all the way off, instead, letting them dangle from one leg as he pulls his pants down over his ass.

It's frantic, and we're both trying to be quiet since Edward's legs are sticking out of the open front door into the hallway. But it's just so, so, _so_ good. The feel of his hips between my legs; his hipbones against my thighs, the way he knows how to hit that spot, _that_ spot; the one that makes my toes curl and my back arch.

When his rhythm becomes uneven, his breaths ragged and labored – I know he's close.

My legs wrap around his waist higher, my heels digging into his lower back, my hips meeting every one of his erratic, powerful thrusts. His brows scrunch together, and suddenly his eyes pop open, bright green and shiny. I smile up at him, so completely enraptured and in love at that moment, and he stills, cursing loudly as goose bumps explode over his arms and back.

Spent, he lies atop me, his head on my chest as I brush the sweaty hair from his forehead. With a wriggle and a kick of his long leg, he slams the door shut, leaving us in the dark, the light from the moon shining in the front window.

I could lie here all night with him. It's been over six months and I still revel in his every touch, every single little moment of _us_.

"I wasn't joking about the sweat and fries smell," he says, sniffing me, ruining my little romantic inner monologue.

Rolling my eyes, I push him off me. "You smell like armpit and stale beer, too, you know."

Standing up, he kicks his jeans off and pulls his shirt up over his head, leaving them beside the front door. I give him a look as I bundle up my own clothes, both of us standing naked in the dark.

"You gonna pick them up?"

"Tomorrow," he says, strolling into the kitchen, his perky ass shining in the refrigerator light.

Sighing, I pick up his discarded clothes. "You coming for a shower?"

He smirks around a bottle of water. "Round two?"

"Two?" I balk. "You mean three."

He smiles proudly.

"I don't think I have anything left," I say honestly, as we turn the lights on in the bathroom. "Shower head instead?"

I smile as Edward gives me a high-five. He rubs his hands together, tugging me into the shower after him.

"That's my favorite kind!"

* * *

_**Hey guys!**_

_**Big thank you thank yous to Meg and Tiff for being my cheerleaders. **_

_**This chapter references The Strokes, Julian Casablancas - their lead singer and one of the hottest men around (although the drummer Fab is also HOT!), and their song 'Reptilia'. I learned my lesson with Passion Pit.**_

_**Thanks for reading, and for all the lovely reviews. **_


	29. Outtake - 'Ballerinagate'

**Hello again! Welp, this is it. The final, final, very last, never to be repeated outtake for **_**Playing It Straight**_**. **

**This final chapter is Edward's POV of Ch20/21, what was dubbed "Ballerinagate" by some. I thought it would be nice to see what was going through his head, and why Sam was there in the first place. **

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Also, I'm not 100% sure if I'm allowed to post this yet, I haven't' double checked the date. I blame iambeagle.**

* * *

She smells like clean warm skin and that sweet scented body wash she uses, and I have half a mind to toss the keys aside and take her against the door.

My brain spends way too long thinking about the logistics of a hallway fuck, but in the end, as hot as it would be, I don't want my first time with Bella to be against the front door of our apartment, in plain sight of our neighbors. I can practically hear my balls screaming at me to get a grip. I shouldn't be thinking about making our first time "special". As a testosterone-fuelled, hot-blooded guy, I should be thinking about hitting that.

Repeatedly.

From all angles.

And I am; just in a more respectful manner. Because I don't wanna fuck up whatever this is I have going with her. It's too good, and I'm already in way too deep to back out now.

I should have known the minute she strolled into my apartment, with that fucking dress swishing around her perfect legs, smelling like fresh air and trouble. I should have caught on when the sight of her and Garrett made me want to punch holes in my bedroom wall. But they say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and that's all in the past now, because finally, I have her all to myself.

Finally, she gets the key into the lock, and the door pops open, the two of us almost falling over ourselves to get inside. I'm thinking of a thousand ways I can get her out of her bra in sixty seconds or less, and she's complaining about being hungry. Again. That girl has hollow legs or something, I don't know where she puts all the food she eats.

A dark blue carry-on case catches my attention, and as my brain pulls the blood from my dick back up to where it's needed, I realize there's someone sitting on my couch.

It's Sam.

"Hi, Edward," she says quietly, smiling a little.

I blink.

I blink again.

She's still there.

"Who's this?" she asks, gesturing behind me.

Samantha - my ex-fiancé - is in my apartment. On my couch. Smiling at me.

"Uh, I'm Bella."

Oh, shit. Sam is in the same room as Bella. Bella and Sam are in the same place. Together. And I'm here too. How did this happen?

Sam says something, her voice sounding more high-pitched and grating than I remember, and then suddenly, she throws her arms around my neck and kisses me.

Only on the cheek, thank god. But still. _What the fuck?!_

Bella looks at me expectantly.

I feel like my mouth is full of cotton wool. "Bella, this is Sam."

The words come out of my mouth, but I don't feel my lips making the movements. It's like an out of body experience as Bella's eyes widen and she looks at Sam, and then back at me.

Sam's looking up at me with her familiar blue eyes, and I have the urge to march her out the front door and slam it in her face. Or find the remote and rewind time. Where's a time traveling Delorian when you need one?

"What are you doing here?"

She smiles, and I can see it's fake; like she's painted it there. "I wanted to come home a little early, so I caught a flight and thought I could surprise you."

_Well ten fucking points to you for surprising the shit out of me!_

"Anyway," says Sam, breaking the silence. All I can see, as Sam goes on about dinner, is Bella inching away from me. I don't know if she's aware she's doing it, but when I move toward her she takes a step back.

"You should come along." Sam's voice is like a buzzing in my ear. I'm torn between trying to form words, something to tell Bella to stop thinking the things I can see she's thinking, and telling my crazy ex to get the fuck out of my apartment.

"No, Sam…"

"Thanks, but…"

Both Bella and I protest, but Sam seems to just ignore us both as she wraps her scarf around her neck.

Turning back to Bella, I reach for her, but she steps out of my grasp, crossing her arms over her chest.

I try to reassure her that I'll figure it out. Whatever _it_ is. But I need a minute, just a fucking second to breathe.

I want to know why Sam's really here.

I want to know why she's looking at me the way she is; like _I'm_ the crazy one.

I want Bella to stop looking at me like I'm about to break her heart.

I'm on auto-pilot, following Bella out the door that only minutes before we were making out against. I think back to my last conversations with Sam. Did I not make it clear enough that we were breaking up? Did she tell me she was coming home and I've forgotten? That sounds like me, but this is kind of a big thing, I think I would remember.

The short walk to the restaurant is quite possibly the most awkward ten minutes of my life. Sam knows she's in the wrong, so she spends the whole time talking incessantly, barely stopping for a breath. Bella, on the other hand, walks beside me, obviously making a conscious effort not to touch or look at me.

At the restaurant, Bella stuffs her face with breadsticks; her cheeks full like a chipmunk as she washes it down with a gulp of wine.

Sam is being annoyingly evasive with her answers, insisting she's here to see me, and then ignoring me to ask Bella more questions. I'm trying really hard to be a gentleman since we're in public and all, but I really want to slam my fist on the table and get the truth out of her.

"Don't be silly. We had an argument, Edward."

My mouth drops open, and before I can get a word out, Bella jumps up from her seat, excusing herself.

"What the fuck are you on?" I hiss at Sam as Bella practically runs across the restaurant to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry?" Sam replies. She tries to look coy, her hand fluttering at her collarbone as her eyes widen. But I know better. She forgets that I've known her for-fucking-ever, and that I know when she's lying.

"I don't know what your problem is, Sam. But if your sudden appearance fucks things up between Bella and me, I will never forgive you."

With that, I push my chair out roughly, leaving her sitting at the table.

I pace the hallway outside the bathroom like the fucking stalker I am, becoming more and more stressed as the time ticks on. I reach for the door twice, afraid that maybe she's legged it out a window or something. I'm just about to go in, when the door swings open and she runs right into me, her head smashing painfully against my sternum.

"You have to believe me, I don't know what she's talking about." The words are out before she even has a chance to stand up straight.

Rubbing her head, she frowns and snatches her hand out of mine. I can't help but be hurt, even though I know she's hurting more. But as much as I know that right now she's hurting, I also know that I need her just to chill for two seconds, because I can already see indecision and fear creeping into her eyes. I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to find out.

I try my best to calm her down, to make her understand that while I desperately want to just shake the answer out of Sam, there's obviously something going on that I don't understand. I just need her to…to…fuck…I just need _her_.

"But…you have to want me too." I can see her holding back tears; feel her pulse beating under my fingers as I pull her closer. The ways in which this night has turned on its head continue to stun me. How can she not know I want her?

_You should have told her how you feel, you dick._

I can't tell her now. Telling someone you love them isn't a bargaining chip, and yeah, I have a shitty relationship history, so you can't blame me for being just a little wary about telling her that I fucking love her.

"You're breaking my heart because you don't have the balls to tell your ex-girlfriend the truth."

I don't know why I stand there so long. I feel like I want to be sick, like my heart's beating too fast, too hard. It makes my chest hurt, and my head swim, and by the time I run outside, stumbling into the biting night air, she's gone.

"Bella?"

I jog up a half a block, scanning the people on the sidewalk, looking for her mop of dark hair, but finding nothing. I call her phone but it rings out and I don't even bother leaving a message, just hanging up and calling again. When it goes straight to message bank after the third try, I know she's turned it off.

The urge to sit on the sidewalk and cry is overwhelming. My hands tucked into my hair, I turn in circles, hoping that she'll appear out of nowhere with that look on her face that says "you're in trouble!" The one she gives me when I've left a wet towel on the bed or a coffee cup in the shower again.

"Edward?"

Hanging my head, I turn to face Sam, my hands balled into fists at my side.

"What? What could you possibly want from me, Sam?"

Brushing her blonde hair over her ear, she looks at me, the remorse plain in her features. A year ago that face would have made me crumble, but now it just makes me angry, and all I see are the things about her that make her not Bella. The blonde hair, the light eyes framed by perfectly manicured eyebrows and expensive makeup. She's exactly the same as she was when she left; so put together, not a hair out of place, and yet, so very different. She's thin in the extreme, no doubt from all the dancing, but there's a glow to her skin, even in the cold night air. She looks good.

"Did you find her? Do you want to go home and look for her there?"

"What? Why do you care? Why are you even here!?"

Wringing her hands, she shuffles awkwardly. "I don't know. Bad advice I guess. And...I don't know. I just needed to make sure you were happy."

"By turning up out of nowhere and pretending like we're still together?"

"I didn't mean any of that stuff I said back there, Edward. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so sorry, please believe me."

Sighing long and deep, the adrenalin begins to slowly seep out of me, and I'm left with just the deep, cold, aching feeling in my chest.

"I don't care, Sam. I'm sorry, but right now I just want to find my girlfriend."

The vibrating of my phone startles me, and I almost drop it in my haste to answer.

"Bella?"

"Not unless she's gained a hundred pounds and a dick."

"Emmett. Hey."

"Oh, it's like that? It's the middle of the frickin night and I'm calling you, out of the goodness of my heart, to tell you that your girlfriend is here, safe, and all I get is a _hey_."

"She's there? Is she okay? Can I talk to her? Wait - does she look angry?"

"One question at a time. She's not here yet, Rose just called from the car; she's gone to pick her up. She asked me to call you and tell you where Bella was so you wouldn't get worried."

Thank fuck for Rose. I'm going to buy that woman the biggest fucking bunch of flowers ever.

"Did she say anything about Bella? Is...she okay?"

Emmett pauses. "She didn't say. But I'm guessing since Rose is hauling ass all the way out to Greyhill at midnight on a Sunday, that no, she's not okay."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I frown. "Can you just tell her to call me please?"

"I'll see what I can do."

It's a crappy answer, but it's all I get.

"Hang in there, bro."

"Thanks, Em."

Hanging up, I squeeze the phone in my hand, trying to calm myself down. I'm grateful to Emmett for the call. He didn't have to, especially since Rose is Bella's best friend, but I'm marginally calmer knowing she's safe.

"Everything okay?"

I'd almost forgotten Sam was even there. Suddenly tired, I nod, and she reaches out for my arm, retracting her hand as I pull it out of her reach.

"You have some explaining to do."

Standing in the middle of the almost empty sidewalk, Sam blurts out everything.

"I was going to call first, I swear. But my mom suggested I surprise you – you know how much she always loved you. I think she was hoping we'd have this big heart-felt reunion, and she'd get the big wedding she wanted so badly." Her voice drops a little, her fingers twisting in front of her. "But then when you turned up with Bella...I don't know. Do you know what it's like seeing the man you were supposed to marry with someone else?"

"That's not fair and you know it. You made your decision, Sam."

"I know..."

"No! You don't get to come back here and play the scorned woman card. You got your flashy life in Europe - I moved on. That's it."

"I know! You don't have to tell me that," she snaps. "You think it's only men who get to play the jealous ex-lover? I'm sorry I did it, all of it. Seeing you is harder than I thought it would be, but that doesn't mean I'm here to cause trouble between you and Bella."

"Well you're doing a pretty good job of it so far."

"That was not my intention, Edward. I just freaked out, okay? And I promise I'll do anything you need to get her back."

I roll my eyes. "Somehow I don't think Bella would appreciate your help on the matter."

She looks up at me with her familiar eyes, those eyes that can still read me like a book.

"You love her."

Christ. Even Sam can see it – how does Bella not know?

I nod.

A sad, resigned smile tugs at Sam's lips. "I'm happy you're happy. I know you think I'm this crazy vindictive bitch out to ruin your relationship, but I'm not. I came back to make sure you were happy, Edward."

"A call would have sufficed."

She smiles. "I see that now. Look, I know I've gone about this the wrong way, but..." She takes a deep breath. "I want you to know that I don't look at our relationship as wasted time. Some of our time together was the best of my life. But, you and I both know that in the end we were always better friends that we were lovers."

Her words hit home and I realize that this is our final parting moment; the final chapter in a relationship that spanned six years and two continents.

"I've never thought our relationship was a waste of time, Sam," I reply quietly. "I guess I'm just sorry I couldn't give you what you needed."

She shrugs. "I think even if you had it wouldn't have changed things. Anyway, it's not like I was a model fiancée anyway."

The wind bites and I curse my thin t-shirt as we both shiver; me shoving my hands into my pockets, Sam hunkering down into her scarf.

"You look good, Edward," she says, nudging me with her shoulder lightly. "You look happy."

Holding my bare arms close to my sides, I shiver. "Are you? Happy, I mean?"

She nods slowly, but her eyes are bright like the summer sky under her blonde hair. "I am."

I crack a smile, but it feels stupid and wrong; like there's no reason to smile if Bella's not around. "Good. I'm glad."

Funnily enough though, it's the truth. I am pleased she's happy. It's always nice to know you haven't ruined some poor girl's life.

"Don't let her go, Edward."

Resolute, I stand up straight.

"She's good for you. You look more like the Edward I knew when we first met."

The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach rises again, and all I want to do is see her. Touche her, smell her, taste her, tell her that I love her a thousand-million times.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asks.

My hands in my pockets, I close my eyes; exhausted, angry, scared and most of all, missing Bella already.

"I'm going to get her back."

I don't care if I have to walk to Emmett's and beg on my fucking knees. I'm not letting this stupid lack of communication be what comes between us.

There is no maybe – this time I'll fight.

* * *

**Thank you to Meg and Tiff for being my prereaders. They're awesome.**

**Okay, no sappy goodbyes. I'm off to click the 'Complete' button and cry.  
**

**xx  
**


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